With You There's A Heaven
by PoppieJoy
Summary: "I would wait for you, I would wait all night, just the thought of you before I close my eyes."  Warning of angst between Brittana  REMEMBER: Brittana is endgame.  AN:I've never done this before so I apologise if things are wrong.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 – Broken-hearted Girl.

It felt really good to win, Santana thought, as she walked the halls of West McKinley High School. She looked above her to admire the banner that read:

_ 'Congratulations New Directions. Best show choir in the USA.' _

She breathed in deeply, pausing to take in the sight. From every direction, students of the high school seemed to recognize her from the glee club, and smiled in respect at her new found status. Never did Santana ever expect to win last year, what with Mr Schue being distracted with his Marriage to Miss Pillsbury and Rachel fretting desperately over the slight break in her voice the night of the competition. But as usual, all had pulled through and they had been awarded with first place. One place ahead of Vocal Adrenaline.

But that was last year. Now, the summer was over, and Santana had to accept that things were going to be different. Things weren't going to be as joyful and as carefree as they had been in the summer – and not just because of a win at Nationals.

Sensing people were beginning to feel annoyed at Santana's position in the centre of the hallway, she retreated to the side by the millions of lockers that were being smashed repeatedly, one after the other. Usually, she found this irritating but it was actually quite comforting, considering the circumstances with the events in the summer and what all that had lead to, now. She didn't really want to think about how school was going to be now that things had changed. She hoped people wouldn't see through her cracked demeanour and only focussed on the new fragrance she had just bought, or the lip gloss she was wearing. Either one, she didn't care.

She was on her way to the first glee club meeting of the new school year. As she walked in to the choir room, her eyes naturally took her to her usual seat – the seat next to Brittany. She remembered how all summer she had dreamed of this day, when she would just walk into that room and take one look at the blonde girl, and nestle down next to her, not giving a damn what everyone else thought. She could have if she wanted to – but how after so much had changed?

Mercedes was the first to speak up. "So, Santana, you finally decide to join us?"

Santana knew she was late, but she didn't want any attention from it. She had her reasons.

"I had a bigger lunch than usual." She snapped back, instantly stealing a glance at the blonde who was sat obliviously in her usual place. "Like I've told you before, I have a weakness for double offerings."

It was true. All through the summer, she had been so blissfully happy, that she had eaten more than usual and had gained a few pounds. The extra weight did her justice though, but she wasn't sure it would remain for much longer. She hadn't had an extra lunch. She hadn't even had one. She had, instead, been hiding in the girl's bathroom, listening to the sounds of their sweet voices chatting to one another, making her feel weak and overwhelmingly depressed. School, she had thought, sucked.

Mercedes knew better than to argue with Santana, so she sat back and shrugged her shoulders. The rest of the glee club eyed her suspiciously as she walked straight past Brittany, up to the top of the raised floor and settled there. Brittany turned her head sharply and burrowed her eyebrows, staring straight at Santana. Nothing was said and nothing was done. Brittany turned back round, obviously hurt by the reaction she had got from the beautiful girl. Santana noticed her looking for a hand to hold next to her but as expected, she found none. It hurt Santana to see Brittany so confused. She wished she could go over to her, bend down in front of her eyes and tell her with as much truth as she could that everything was okay, and that she wasn't so incredibly mad at her that she felt like doing cosas malas to the poor innocent girl. Except she couldn't because Brittany wasn't innocent. Well, not in the physical sense anyway.

Santana was relieved to see Mr Schue's face walk through the door because her body was telling her to move to Brittany's side and kiss her on all her broken edges, and she knew she couldn't do that.

"New Directions!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "A very small New Directions."

The choir looked around at each other. It wasn't right seeing them so small and so insignificant. For a fleeting moment, Santana felt a tremendous wave of grief at the memory of the four classmates who had all moved on. New Directions just didn't feel right without them. Santana knew the drill when people left the choir; new people had to be brought in.

"Are we going to have to audition with all the newbies that wants to get up in our club?" She asked, her voice monotone and low.

Mr Schue was taken aback. "Gosh, no, Santana. You guys are the originals. I can't afford to lose you lot. You're staying, there is no need to worry about that." He pursed his lips together. "However, we do have to find another four people to join this club, so I'm putting up a sign up sheet outside the choir room and hopefully students will put their names down." He noticed their uncomfortable shifting. "Come on, guys, we knew this day was going to come. One day, I'll be left with none of you, and think how hard that will be for me. You guys are going to be making the final calls, anyway."

Mercedes and Tina broke into excited conversation at this point, as did Mike and Sam. Santana wished with all her heart that she could with Brittany, but she knew she had to stay glued to her chair. She closed her eyes so the image of a lost, 'innocent' blonde would leave her view. When she opened them, Kurt and Lauren were now in the midst of another excited conversation.

_Oh please, _she thought. _Will this glee club ever not get excited at the most stupidest things?_

"So here is the sheet music in which we will ask the students to sing." Mr Schue handed Santana a copy. She looked down and nearly snorted.

"Mr Schue," She began, "this is like the most over played, over sung and over used song that there is in this universe. Surely you could have picked a better song which demonstrates the person's ability to make it better, because this song..." she indicated the sheets in her hands, "cannot be done better than when it is done by us." She looked around the room at all the happy people and decided to be honest. "Mainly me."

"Exactly, Santana." Mr Schue enthused, causing the Latina to frown. "Thank you for pointing that out. You see, if we are going to build up the standard we had for the last two years, we are going to have to select a song in which the students have to sing better than us."

The club frowned. Some raised their eyebrows.

"Okay, to the level in which we are at-" He continued.

"Which is unbeatable." Santana interrupted. Again, being honest.

"Santana?" Mr Schue said, looking at her. She got the message. "The auditions will be held after school today, so I need at least two of you to stay behind." He looked around, questioningly.

Santana hated staying after school. The only time she had ever done so (which, in fact, was quite a lot) was when she had detention and usually she appreciated that time because she wasn't stuck at a house where her mom did nothing but watch TV and her dad was always away at work. She hated silence. And that's why she hated her house.

"I'll stay, Mr Schue." She offered, raising her hand slightly, as if to lessen the fact she had actually volunteered. She looked around at all the surprised faces. "What?" She asked, defensively. "We don't want another singer who looks like Rachel Berry and another who has weird custard nipples, like Finn. I'm doing us a favour. I keep it real, and therefore the students who audition will be keeping it real."

The room went silent for a while. Mr Schue nodded his head slightly, and waited for another volunteer. It didn't take long.

"I'll stay." The blonde raised her hand high. "As long as you don't mind me eating the cat food that Lord Tubbington refused to have this morning." She looked around at all the disgusted faces. "What, you can't let food go to waste. There are kids at Breadstix who are starving."

Another silence filled the room but this time it was broken by Tina. "Well, Mike and I have a meeting with his mom about the importance of contraception so we can't make it."

"Yeah and I promised Sam I would help him move stuff at his new house." Mercedes added, stealing a smile at her boyfriend who returned the gesture.

Mr Schue looked at Kurt and Lauren. Kurt admitted he had a date with Blaine that he couldn't cancel and Lauren complained of a stomach ache. Santana snorted.

_Probably from all those burgers you ate at lunch, big girl._

"So it's settled." Mr Schue began, looking from Santana to Brittany and back again. "You two will help me choose the four New Directions."

The club laughed just as the bell went for their next lesson.

"How many people am I gonna have to fight for lead singer, Mr Schue?" Santana questioned, taking a seat next to her teacher in the auditorium.

"Who said anything about fighting?" He replied, frowning at her.

"My cats fight." Brittany said, innocently.

Silence.

"Right," Said Mr Schue, "Let's get the first person in."

The first person was terrible, Santana thought. They were short and Zises-fat and Santana thought they smelt like a stagnating pile of rotting onions. She was put off onions for life. She made Don't Stop Believing sound like it was being released by Puck's ass. The second wasn't much better. She wore a large fur coat that looked like it had been taken directly off a bull's privates. Santana booed her before she even started singing, which resulted in a deafening glare from Mr Schue. She was just being honest.

The third person was different. He looked young, maybe about fifteen, and he had short black her and a decidedly cute grin. Santana naturally looked to Brittany to raise her eyebrows but remembered her inner anger for the girl and went to turn away. But she saw Brittany's face looking at her phone and giggling at something on the screen and her whole attitude changed. Santana felt sick. She thought she was going to cry.

_Not know, Lopez. You're from a part of town called Lima Heights Adjacent. No one cries there._

The boy spoke into his microphone with the cutest British accent she had ever heard.

"My name is Max and I'm going to sing Disney's 'When She Loved Me." He blushed a little. "I can't sing the requested song, sir. It gives me bad memories." Mr Schue nodded acceptingly, closing his eyes slightly in empathy. Max adjusted the microphone to suit his medium frame. Mr Schue nodded in appreciation and Max began.

_Oh fucking hilarious. _Santana thought, rolling her eyes at his song choice. She looked at Brittany and the sick feeling returned.

She turned her attention back to Max. His British accent came through in his singing and Santana couldn't help but feel drawn to his voice. It was actually pretty good. But she couldn't concentrate properly because the lyrics kept poking her in the heart.

_...Through the summer and the fall, _

_we had each other, that was all,_

_just she and I together, _

_like it was meant to be._

_...And when she was lonely, _

_I was there to comfort her, _

_and I knew that she loved me._

Santana sighed desperately. Brittany didn't notice her discomfort because all she was going was checking her phone every now and again and smiling widely when she noticed there was a message. Why had she agreed to this?

"Thank you, Max." Mr Schue said when the boy had finished. "That was great. I'm sorry you couldn't sing the requested song. But you have a lovely voice, anyway."

Santana smiled at Max and noticed his cheeks flush. The next three people that tried out were, like the first two, awful and Santana couldn't help but think that with Finn, Puck, Rachel and Quinn, they had taken all the talent with them to New York. She wished she was a year older so she could have left this dump. Saying that, if things had turned out differently at the end of the summer, she would not be wishing that at all. Not at all.

When the auditions were over, Mr Schue looked at both Brittany and Santana as if to say, 'it was worth a try', thanked them and got up to leave.

"Hey, wait, Mr Schue, that British kid was kinda good, you gotta let him in." Santana argued, confused at her teacher's expression. "Yes, he sang a baby kid's song, and true, he did blush every time I looked at his face, but I can tolerate the attention if it means New Directions can be complete again."

Mr Schue smiled at Santana's 'modesty' and agreed with her, before leaving the room, leaving the Latina with the one blonde who knew her best. There was silence for ages before Brittany decided to speak.

"We're never going to be complete again."

"I'm sorry?"

"New Directions." Brittany looked up, glad that her best friend finally spoke to her, even if it was harshly. "We're never going to be complete again."

Santana frowned at the dancer.

"Because I lost my voice, and I don't know where it's gone."

Santana didn't know what to say. She just stood there frowning, not knowing whether to look at the girl or anywhere but. She didn't even know if she should answer. She was confused at Brittany's words.

"If I had told you that last year, you would have given me your usual frown but then you would have helped me look for it." Brittany looked down at her lap, sadly. "Can you help me look for it?"

Santana shook her head. She didn't understand. She knew Brittany was right; she would have helped her look for it last year, last week maybe, even though she knew her voice would come back when she was better (if that was actually the problem – she couldn't quite tell) but now things were different and now Brittany had done things that Santana wasn't ready to forgive.

"I don't know where you would have put it." She eventually decided on and then added rather fiercely, "Why don't you ask your new boyfriend, maybe he will help you?" before stalking out of the room.

She hated leaving the girl so lost and confused behind her but she convinced herself it was for her own good. It really was. Brittany had been disloyal. That was that. She realised it would be hard to move on because, fuck, she loved the girl more than she loved anything else but nothing would ever change the events of the past summer. Nothing. Her heart would have to break. It already had.

When she arrived for the glee meeting on the second day, she was late. Again, the chair next to Brittany was available but she chose to ignore it. Again, more confused stares. Santana thought she would get tired of this.

Mr Schue introduced Max to the rest of the choir before settling them all down for some "fantastic news" he was about to tell them. He looked overjoyed and Santana wasn't sure if she could take another excitable person. Firstly, she'd had Tina skip up to her this morning to tell her that Mike had taken her on some out-of-this-world date to the local Chinese where he had proposed to her but not to marry him but to commit to him for another year and secondly, she'd been re-applying her lip gloss in the mirror of her locker door, when Brittany had received a text standing next to her with her head in the next door locker and had squeaked rather loudly at something it said. The sick feeling had flooded her again and she'd had to slam her locker door real loud to drown out the pain in her stomach, which had caused Brittany to jump fairly badly. Santana had smirked as she'd sauntered off.

"...so Figgins and I have decided to use the money we won from Nationals to travel to London to spend a couple of weeks with Up and Away out there."

Santana shook her head. "Sorry, who?"

"Oh, Santana, were you not just listening?" Kurt said, exasperated. "There's a glee club in England and they have informed Mr Schue of a onetime International Show Choir Competition in London in December. We've got the opportunity to spend time with them and enter."

Santana looked up at Mr Schue in disbelief. They hadn't even got a full glee club and now he was taking them halfway across the world to enter into a worldwide competition with a glee club they had never even met. What exactly was he on? Crack?

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I think it's an opportunity we simply can't miss." He looked around the choir room, a small smile pinching at the corners of his mouth. "So, who's up for it?"

A sea of hands rose like balloons in the air. Besides Santana's. Brittany turned round to notice her friend's limp and unsatisfied position. She quickly lowered her hand and smiled to herself when, as soon as she did, Santana's hand rose. She knew that she would go if she wasn't there. She knew that Santana wouldn't go anywhere she was going. It hurt but she wanted Santana to be happy.

Mr Schue clapped his hands together, seemingly forgetting about Brittany, and got to work planning their trip.

Santana stole a glance at Brittany. Had her friend made the right decision, not going? She knew how much Brittany wanted to visit England and how excited her face had been when their teacher had told them. She felt incredibly guilty. Her heart broke into more tiny pieces and she listened sadly as they fell to the ground one by one, without a shudder of a vibration; a never ending waterfall of broken promises and wasted dreams.

That's right. Wasted dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 – I don't have a hand to hold if I get lonely

Brittany lay in her bead clutching her stomach and holding her heart. She wished Santana was there to hold her and let her sleep peacefully. A faint tear slid down the side of her face and she mourned the loss of her best friend. She didn't want to feel like this; she never wanted to feel like this. She just got so scared. And she hated herself for that. She knew that Santana didn't like it when she was scared.

"_You're beautiful, Brittany, you have absolutely no need to be scared. I love you, and that's all that matters, okay?" _

Brittany shed another tear at the memory of the Latina's voice. Her phone lit up and she quickly grabbed it, her facial expression changing only slightly when she saw that it wasn't her best friend.

**Hi gorgeous. I just wanted to say before you fall into your sweet dreams that you're amazing. Nick. **

Even though her heart was breaking, she couldn't help but feel it partly piece back together at the words of her new boyfriend. Part of her wanted to reply and tell him the same but the other part of her wanted to slap herself straight in the face and tell him that she couldn't lead him on any further; she was in love with someone else and that was that.

But she couldn't. She didn't. She was such a coward.

She took the heart pendant from around her neck and squeezed it tightly. Across the room, she saw the black bin bag of the clothes Santana had thrown at her the other day. She hadn't the effort yet to put them back in her closet. They still smelt of the girl she loved – that familiar sweet coconut – and there was no way she ever wanted to rid the clothes that brought her so much love. She walked over to the bag and removed her old pink t-shirt with the blue heart on the front. Santana had taken that one day when she was going away with her parents, because she didn't want to be without Brittany for one night. She remembered laughing in her head at the way the Latina was so open when she was around her. Now, the pink top just lay limp in Brittany's hands and it made her cry even more. She brought it to her nose and breathed in deeply. The smell filled her nose and her body, circling her heart in a bubble of temporary warmth making it feel not so empty. She couldn't imagine doing that with Nick's clothes.

Clinging on to her bed covers, as she fell onto them, she cried even harder and never before in her whole life had she wished to see Santana's beautiful face at her bedroom window, after escaping her own house just to lie down next to Brittany and hold her hand, stroking it rhythmically, like she used to do. It was the only way she could ever fall asleep.

_I don't like you, Brittany. _She thought to herself. _I don't like what you're doing to Santana. You're an evil person who is just scared. I don't like you at all. Not one bit._

Santana found it extremely hard to imagine anyone lying next to Brittany, stroking her held hand so she could go to sleep. It made her shudder because it was someone taking her place. She should be the one lying next to the broken girl and holding her all together. She just didn't get it. How could anyone understand Brittany the way she did? She lived for the girl. She lived for the girl's happiness. What had she to live for now?

The thought brought her back to the day Mr Schue had told them all he was going to stop drinking. Santana remembered thinking that was so stupid because he wouldn't have anything to live for. The day she realised she loved Brittany was the day she realised that there was far more to life than crying over several bottles of whiskey. She didn't have that anymore.

Going downstairs from her bedroom window, she opened her parent's liquor cupboard. Her mom was too busy watching TV to notice her remove the vodka and her dad was on a late night call, so she snuck it up to her bedroom and closed the door softly, shutting the lamp off so it appeared she was asleep. Opening the lid, she took a whiff of the dangerous content. It took her three seconds to finally place bottle to lips and suck in the cure she was seeking. Her face crumpled and her body racked but she didn't stop. She wanted to make the pain go away.

The burning in her throat worsened and eventually she chucked the half empty bottle out of the window, wincing at the smash it made as it hit the road outside. She let her head fall into her surrendered hands and finally allowed herself to cry.

She hated the feeling of hot tears sliding down her face but it was all she could do to hold back the noise so her mom didn't hear. Eventually, she left her seat by the window and fell onto her double bed, clasping the duvet as if it would vanish any second, just like Brittany had. She felt her face crumple again and another load of tears washed out, a scream threatening to explode from the back of Santana's throat. She hated living without the girl. She absolutely hated it. Why did she feel terrified all of a sudden? It was like, without her, she was completely naked and nothing was around her to guard her from all the horrible comments people would make. Grabbing more of her covers, she felt for the one top she hadn't thrown at Brittany the other day – her pyjama top with the ducks on - and allowed the scream to come out through the material of that. It smelt of her. That gorgeous smell of strawberries and cream rippled through Santana's body, filling up her empty heart nearly to the top, if only for a while. At least only she could hear her pain then and not the whole world.

This wasn't normal. Santana Lopez didn't usually cry this hysterically. Especially on her own. If she did, it would be when Brittany was there to comfort her. The vodka wouldn't help either. Drinking that, for Santana, was effectively drinking an ocean of tears that would soon need to be released. She sighed at the thought. It was so tiring.

She knew she couldn't sleep without Brittany by her side. At least not tonight. So she prepared herself for a long, tear-filled darkness and took the heart pendant on the side of her bed, wrapping it round her fingers in a desperate attempt to somehow bring Brittany to her. For some reason, the pendant that the two of them gave each other brought her so much more comfort than absolutely anything at that moment. She gripped onto it, stupidly willing that by doing so, Brittany would magically appear at her bedroom window after just escaping her own house, simply to lie down next to Santana and hold her hand, stroking it rhythmically, like she used to do.

_I don't like crying, Santana. _She thought, wiping away another tear. _I don't like crying over Brittany. You're a stupid person, who is just scared. I don't like crying. I don't like crying at all. _

The high-pitched squeaks that were echoing around the choir room really hurt Santana's head. She felt like a criminal. They were all at it, getting at her because she wasn't joining in with the fun. Jesus, what had she done, murdered all the men who had paid her for sex?

_Santana. _She thought. _That's disgusting. Not the sex part but the murdering. Ew._

"Hey, Santana, who'd you wanna sit next to on the flight?" Mercedes asked, still giggling at something Tina had just said.

Santana pondered. She actually didn't give a shit; Brittany wasn't going and no one else she truly cared about. So she just shrugged.

"Alright, I'll put you anywhere."

Mr Schue gave them a list of everything they would need. Santana still didn't understand why they were going. This one off international competition was, like, in four months time. Why were they going now?

Brittany was currently writing out songs that they could perform for this other glee club, 'Up and Away'. She had included all her favourite Britney numbers and some of New Direction's best showstoppers, such as 'Don't Stop Believing' and 'Sing'. Santana noticed how Brittany had put 'Me Against The Music' on there and she wondered who Brittany was expecting her to sing it with.

Artie wheeled over to Brittany and started laughing at her adorable bouncing around. Santana thought differently. There was a faint shadow over Brittany's eyes and Santana expected she was embarrassed after what she had said yesterday. Brittany's phone went off for about the fourth time in the space of five minutes. She picked it up and Artie gave a long wolf-whistle at her.

_Freaking squeak wheels._ Santana thought, shuffling down further into her chair. _I bet he's happy we're not talking._

"Santana, do you have any suggestions for the song list?" Brittany surprisingly asked, looking up from the phone, her eyes wide and innocent. For a moment, Santana couldn't speak. She loved those eyes so much.

"No, not really." She answered, her voice turning snappy. "Perhaps you, Artie McCripple Pants, and the douche on the other end of your phone can give you more suggestions if you're stuck."

The room fell silent until Brittany muttered a soft, "Santana."

She didn't say anything back. Instead, Tina and Mercedes raised their voices and informed the choir that they had found a video of Up and Away on their laptop. They all crowded around the screen to see what they would be up against.

On the screen were five girls. Three were sitting down – a blonde with short hair, playing the guitar, a younger girl with long brunette hair and an older girl with similar features. Standing up was a very tall olive skinned girl who looked Spanish, singing into a wireless microphone and a smaller blonde with heavily braided hair that looked like it hadn't been removed in ages, also singing into a microphone. The music began playing – Madcon's 'Beggin' – and the girls started to sing. The three sitting down were merely singing the harmonies but the two with microphones had a little quirky routine going on as they belted out the acoustic number and it was obvious to Santana that they were best friends. Her heart broke even more. It was even more sickening to see two best friends having fun together than it was to see Brittany text her boyfriend. She missed being that silly around each other.

Once the video was over, it brought up links to other videos that included the other half of the choir. It appeared that they were a fairly renowned show choir in England judging by the comments online and their own website. Santana felt nervous all of a sudden; she didn't want to spend two weeks with a show choir that seemed to be stupidly up their own arse.

The choir room had gone silent. The group seemed to be taken aback. Nobody spoke as Mercedes scrolled through the rest of the comments below the video. There were people all the way in Australia and Brazil that had found their videos and enjoyed them. It was really quite insane.

"Remind me why we're entering this competition, Mr Schue." Santana said, folding her arms.

Mr Schue smiled at her. "Because we can win it."

"Nice to see someone has bundles of confidence in this glee club." Sam said, wiping his forehead.

"Oh shut up, trouty mouth." Santana bit back, sharply turning her head towards him. "I'm the only one in here who knows, for a fact, that if we go to London, we're going to have our head's chopped off and the rest of our confidence butchered." She looked around at the blank faces and said, "My point exactly," before leaving the room in a huff.

She was not looking forward to this trip, she was also not looking forward to getting their asses kicked by this stupid new glee club, and she definitely was not looking forward to spending two weeks without Brittany, despite the fact she was incredibly mad at the girl. It was all so confusing in her head that she didn't even know where to begin to think about it all. All she could hope was that the people in this British glee club could distract her from the fact she wasn't one whole person anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 – glazed eyes and you're blazing with anger

Scrawling through the several other videos on Up and Away's website, Santana realised, for good, that New Directions were inevitably screwed. There was video after video of just the girls singing acoustically and then all of them together in big showstopper numbers. There were even some music videos that parodied the originals. The blonde with the braided hair was in the latest one – BoB's 'Airplanes' – with a dark kid, who seemed to be insanely intent on bending his knees when he rapped. He was good though, however dorkish he appeared on screen. Santana bet he had been rapping all his life the way his mouth just seemed to round off the words, like, perfectly.

It was nearly 2am and she had been stalking the group for nearly four hours now. She couldn't help herself; there was something incredibly different about them – they were definitely not the normal school show choir, put it that way.

_I wish Brit was here to stalk them with me_, she suddenly thought, an image of the blonde dancer lying on her stomach, her hands intertwined with Santana's, popping into her head. Santana felt her stomach ripple at the memory of the image:

"_Santana, you can't stalk her." Brittany said, her puppy eyes wide with innocence. "That's like being a shadow. And you're not a shadow." _

_Santana looked up from her laptop screen. "Honey, this is Puckerman's new girl. What do you think I'm gonna do? Sit back and relax whilst he sucks the mouth of someone with bigger lips than me?" She shook her head as if the blonde was crazy. "No." _

"_But, sweetie," Brittany argued, "I like your lips. They're my favourite part about you." _

_Santana's face softened. She loved it when Brittany said things like that. She held onto them a moment longer than normal – the blonde was too valuable to lose. _

"_You like my lips?" Santana repeated, raising an eyebrow._

_Brittany nodded before closing the 30 inch gap between them and pressing her own lips onto the lips of the girl she loved. _

"_I _love _your lips." _

_Santana smiled and watched as the blonde playfully swung her legs around to lie on her stomach. She took the girl's hands in her own and intertwined them together._

"_I can't stalk this dork if I have my hands in yours." Santana said, smiling honestly, a hint of laughter catching at the back of her throat. She took a mental picture of Brittany's beautiful laugh as she tightened her grip of the Latina's hands, hopefully, never to be let go. _

She felt sick again. _God dammit. _She felt her hands gripping the bed sheets, as if they were Brittany's hands, and her stomach flipped round and round about ten thousand times. She lowered her head and turned her attention back to the screen to distract herself.

An image of the choir popped up and it was all she could do to stop herself vomiting all over the happiness. It was so sickening. So revolting... So fucking beautiful.

Why, maniac-up-in-the-heavens? WHY?

Santana slammed her laptop shut, cutting the deafening silence with a bang so loud, a statue would stir. She knew the anger was getting to her. She knew, also, that Brittany was the only person who knew how to eliminate that anger – the only girl who could delve into the depths of Santana's core and just know how to remove all the bad things inside of her. She felt a pain so deep and so unpredictable churn in the pit of her stomach, disturbed from its temporary sleep. She had never known a feeling like it. When you're hurt by the one reason you live, it's like everything inside you decides that your life is worthless and, without your blessing, begins to shut down piece by piece, little by little, one by one, the pain getting worse and worse each and every time. Every so often, the Latina would feel an immense amount of pain in a random part of her body – mainly her abdominal area – and she knew it was when the next part of her had died. She was feeling it now. She wondered which part had just left her. She thought it was most likely her liver, since she had been drinking non-stop, every night, since the night Brittany left her. She may as well continue to do so. It might speed up the killing of everything else.

Taking one last sip of the bottle of vodka she had shoplifted, she finally lay her head down and continued to listen to the sound of silence. At no point in her whole life – not even when she'd cried herself to sleep after Brittany had told her there was someone else – had she ever felt so alone.

It sucked. It sucked balls.

xxxx

"_I can't believe my freaking parents have gone out, again, without telling me!" Santana was yelling, pacing the surface of her bedroom floor. "They expect me to just rummage around the whole house looking for anything to eat when that's all they do anyway – there is no freaking food in this freaking house and it's their entire freaking fault!" She kicked the base of her door, releasing an angry scream as she did so. "I hate them. I really, freaking hate them!" _

_Brittany opened the door to Santana's house and let herself in. She could hear the girl cursing even before she'd reached the neighbourhood she lived in. She hated hearing her like this. _

_She dropped her coat on the couch to her right and wound her way upstairs. She knew this house like the back of her hand. Santana's room was the third door on the right and it was always closed. Today was no different. Apart from the fact she was nearly kicking it off the wall. _

"_Hey, sweetie, stop kicking the door, I don't want to die before I'm even in your room." She said, tapping on the wooden frame. _

_She could hear Santana pause inside; Brittany hadn't told her she was coming over. The door flew open and the blonde was greeted with an extremely surprised face – one that had that horrible glazed look which meant she was influenced with anger. Brittany smiled._

"_Can I come in?" _

_Santana stood back and watched as Brittany sat down on her bed and started unpacking the contents of her bag. _

"_I've brought some breadstix over for you." The blonde admitted, laying them out on the Latina's strewn bed. She looked up, her cheeks pinking slightly. "Well, for me as well. If I'm allowed to stay." _

_Santana stood there for what seemed like a million years before she closed the beaten door, her face still surprised, and walked gently over to the innocence that was sitting so heroically on her bed. Brittany smiled lightly at her and held out her hand. Santana ignored it, instead collapsing to her knees and wrapping her arms around the girl she loved most. Brittany breathed in the tropical smell of exotic coconut and allowed her body to relax into the brunette. _

"_Thank god you're here." _

_Brittany smiled into Santana's hair. "I couldn't imagine being anywhere else right now." _

_She felt Santana breathe into her abdomen, the hot air absorbing straight into her heart. When she finally released her, the girl hitched herself up next to Brittany and dived into the breadstix. _

"_I can't believe you actually brought these over." She said, snapping one in half and offering Brittany the second piece. _

"_I figured you'd want some. They bring a lot of company." Brittany looked up at the brunette and smiled sheepishly. _

"_Not as much as you do." Santana said, cupping Brittany's face in her palm. Brittany loved it when she did that. "How did you know that I would be home alone today?" _

_Brittany's cheeks pinked again and she noticed Santana's face softening. "Well, I woke up this morning, and the first thing that I saw was you." _

_Santana frowned. "But I wasn't with you."_

"_You're always with me." She replied, taking a bite off another breadstick. _

_Santana smiled again – that beautiful smile that was worth everything to Brittany – and looked at the bag the blonde was holding. _

"_What else did you bring with you, honey?" _

_Brittany looked down at the bag and smiled to herself. She unzipped her rucksack, and pulled out a bright pink love heart with the word 'FOREVER' printed on the front. "I thought you'd want some love, so I found some and brought it over." _

_The glazing on Santana's eyes vanished at that moment, all anger gone. "Where from, baby?" _

Was she stupid or something?_ "The Wizard of Oz, where else?" _

_Santana laughed then. The laugh that always made Brittany want to capture it and seal it in a bottle, in which she could open and listen to whenever she was down and Santana wasn't around. It made the Latina's nose crinkle and the corners of her mouth bend down slightly at the end. Brittany laughed with her. _

_Santana stopped and took the love heart from Brittany's hands. She kissed it gently and then placed it at the top of her bed. Though small, it stood out from the rest of the girl's burgundy and black cushions. She smiled again._

"_I love you."_

_Brittany's insides went all warm. "I love you, too." She said, without even thinking. "Forever." _

_Santana had smiled then. Again, that priceless grin that meant, without a doubt, Brittany was the world to her – that she made her happier than she ever thought possible, and that nobody, not even Puck, or some stupid guy they might happen to meet at a bar one night, could ever come between that. The company that they each brought with each other was something that neither would ever find with anyone else – girl or boy – and Brittany knew at that moment, she would never feel lonely again; Santana would always be there. _

She wasn't just killing her beautiful, intelligent, inspirational best friend, she was killing herself. And vice versa. Whichever way that sentence went round, it was inevitably true. And though she felt there was nothing she could do to stop it, she knew it was all a lie. She could do everything to stop it. The whole future of her relationship with the brunette goddess was resting in her hands. And she wasn't doing a thing about it. Except worrying for 90% of the time and "sucking face", as Santana would say, with someone else, for the other 10%. It was all so wrong, but all so right at the same time.

She was scared. She knew that. But Santana didn't. Santana didn't know the real reason why she escaped to a late night bar that night. Santana didn't know the reason why she spoke to the kind and thoughtful barman who served her the millions of drinks she had. Santana didn't know the reason why she agreed to go back to his place and end up kissing him all night long – and that it didn't feel wrong even though she knew she was breaking her beautiful girl's heart as she did so.

But deep down, she knew it was wrong. She just couldn't feel that yet. She hated that she couldn't feel it. The only time it threatened to engulf her was when she saw the look on Santana's face every time she saw her. She didn't try to avoid eye contact with her though; if anything, she was trying to gain more of it. The more time she spent with the Latina, the less it hurt that she was actually hurting her.

She wondered if Santana understood that.

"Hey, Brittany." Mr Schue interrupted her thoughts. "Could you write down that Mercedes needs travel sickness tablets and Kurt needs flying socks."

Brittany did as she was told without even processing what her teacher had just said. Her writing looked less swirly than usual. She wondered why.

"And also that Santana isn't eating the plane food."

Brittany looked up then, a confused expression painted on her face. "Why?" She asked, forgetting the brunette would most likely not answer her.

She was sort of right. Santana looked to her left and then to her right, with just her glazed eyes, as if to say 'what the hell?' and then shrugged at the blonde. Brittany sighed and jotted something down about how Santana should pack breadstix and raspberry jam instead.

When she looked up, she saw that Mr Schue had all of them in a circle as they all high fived each other one by one. They were going tomorrow.

Brittany felt alone. And Santana wasn't there to help her.

She had to leave the room so she could cry. Alone.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 3 – glazed eyes and you're blazing with anger

Scrawling through the several other videos on Up and Away's website, Santana realised, for good, that New Directions were inevitably screwed. There was video after video of just the girls singing acoustically and then all of them together in big showstopper numbers. There were even some music videos that parodied the originals. The blonde with the braided hair was in the latest one – BoB's 'Airplanes' – with a dark kid, who seemed to be insanely intent on bending his knees when he rapped. He was good though, however dorkish he appeared on screen. Santana bet he had been rapping all his life the way his mouth just seemed to round off the words, like, perfectly.

It was nearly 2am and she had been stalking the group for nearly four hours now. She couldn't help herself; there was something incredibly different about them – they were definitely not the normal school show choir, put it that way.

_I wish Brit was here to stalk them with me_, she suddenly thought, an image of the blonde dancer lying on her stomach, her hands intertwined with Santana's, popping into her head. Santana felt her stomach ripple at the memory of the image:

"_Santana, you can't stalk her." Brittany said, her puppy eyes wide with innocence. "That's like being a shadow. And you're not a shadow." _

_Santana looked up from her laptop screen. "Honey, this is Puckerman's new girl. What do you think I'm gonna do? Sit back and relax whilst he sucks the mouth of someone with bigger lips than me?" She shook her head as if the blonde was crazy. "No." _

"_But, sweetie," Brittany argued, "I like your lips. They're my favourite part about you." _

_Santana's face softened. She loved it when Brittany said things like that. She held onto them a moment longer than normal – the blonde was too valuable to lose. _

"_You like my lips?" Santana repeated, raising an eyebrow._

_Brittany nodded before closing the 30 inch gap between them and pressing her own lips onto the lips of the girl she loved. _

"_I _love _your lips." _

_Santana smiled and watched as the blonde playfully swung her legs around to lie on her stomach. She took the girl's hands in her own and intertwined them together._

"_I can't stalk this dork if I have my hands in yours." Santana said, smiling honestly, a hint of laughter catching at the back of her throat. She took a mental picture of Brittany's beautiful laugh as she tightened her grip of the Latina's hands, hopefully, never to be let go. _

She felt sick again. _God dammit. _She felt her hands gripping the bed sheets, as if they were Brittany's hands, and her stomach flipped round and round about ten thousand times. She lowered her head and turned her attention back to the screen to distract herself.

An image of the choir popped up and it was all she could do to stop herself vomiting all over the happiness. It was so sickening. So revolting... So fucking beautiful.

Why, maniac-up-in-the-heavens? WHY?

Santana slammed her laptop shut, cutting the deafening silence with a bang so loud, a statue would stir. She knew the anger was getting to her. She knew, also, that Brittany was the only person who knew how to eliminate that anger – the only girl who could delve into the depths of Santana's core and just know how to remove all the bad things inside of her. She felt a pain so deep and so unpredictable churn in the pit of her stomach, disturbed from its temporary sleep. She had never known a feeling like it. When you're hurt by the one reason you live, it's like everything inside you decides that your life is worthless and, without your blessing, begins to shut down piece by piece, little by little, one by one, the pain getting worse and worse each and every time. Every so often, the Latina would feel an immense amount of pain in a random part of her body – mainly her abdominal area – and she knew it was when the next part of her had died. She was feeling it now. She wondered which part had just left her. She thought it was most likely her liver, since she had been drinking non-stop, every night, since the night Brittany left her. She may as well continue to do so. It might speed up the killing of everything else.

Taking one last sip of the bottle of vodka she had shoplifted, she finally lay her head down and continued to listen to the sound of silence. At no point in her whole life – not even when she'd cried herself to sleep after Brittany had told her there was someone else – had she ever felt so alone.

It sucked. It sucked balls.

xxxx

"_I can't believe my freaking parents have gone out, again, without telling me!" Santana was yelling, pacing the surface of her bedroom floor. "They expect me to just rummage around the whole house looking for anything to eat when that's all they do anyway – there is no freaking food in this freaking house and it's their entire freaking fault!" She kicked the base of her door, releasing an angry scream as she did so. "I hate them. I really, freaking hate them!" _

_Brittany opened the door to Santana's house and let herself in. She could hear the girl cursing even before she'd reached the neighbourhood she lived in. She hated hearing her like this. _

_She dropped her coat on the couch to her right and wound her way upstairs. She knew this house like the back of her hand. Santana's room was the third door on the right and it was always closed. Today was no different. Apart from the fact she was nearly kicking it off the wall. _

"_Hey, sweetie, stop kicking the door, I don't want to die before I'm even in your room." She said, tapping on the wooden frame. _

_She could hear Santana pause inside; Brittany hadn't told her she was coming over. The door flew open and the blonde was greeted with an extremely surprised face – one that had that horrible glazed look which meant she was influenced with anger. Brittany smiled._

"_Can I come in?" _

_Santana stood back and watched as Brittany sat down on her bed and started unpacking the contents of her bag. _

"_I've brought some breadstix over for you." The blonde admitted, laying them out on the Latina's strewn bed. She looked up, her cheeks pinking slightly. "Well, for me as well. If I'm allowed to stay." _

_Santana stood there for what seemed like a million years before she closed the beaten door, her face still surprised, and walked gently over to the innocence that was sitting so heroically on her bed. Brittany smiled lightly at her and held out her hand. Santana ignored it, instead collapsing to her knees and wrapping her arms around the girl she loved most. Brittany breathed in the tropical smell of exotic coconut and allowed her body to relax into the brunette. _

"_Thank god you're here." _

_Brittany smiled into Santana's hair. "I couldn't imagine being anywhere else right now." _

_She felt Santana breathe into her abdomen, the hot air absorbing straight into her heart. When she finally released her, the girl hitched herself up next to Brittany and dived into the breadstix. _

"_I can't believe you actually brought these over." She said, snapping one in half and offering Brittany the second piece. _

"_I figured you'd want some. They bring a lot of company." Brittany looked up at the brunette and smiled sheepishly. _

"_Not as much as you do." Santana said, cupping Brittany's face in her palm. Brittany loved it when she did that. "How did you know that I would be home alone today?" _

_Brittany's cheeks pinked again and she noticed Santana's face softening. "Well, I woke up this morning, and the first thing that I saw was you." _

_Santana frowned. "But I wasn't with you."_

"_You're always with me." She replied, taking a bite off another breadstick. _

_Santana smiled again – that beautiful smile that was worth everything to Brittany – and looked at the bag the blonde was holding. _

"_What else did you bring with you, honey?" _

_Brittany looked down at the bag and smiled to herself. She unzipped her rucksack, and pulled out a bright pink love heart with the word 'FOREVER' printed on the front. "I thought you'd want some love, so I found some and brought it over." _

_The glazing on Santana's eyes vanished at that moment, all anger gone. "Where from, baby?" _

Was she stupid or something?_ "The Wizard of Oz, where else?" _

_Santana laughed then. The laugh that always made Brittany want to capture it and seal it in a bottle, in which she could open and listen to whenever she was down and Santana wasn't around. It made the Latina's nose crinkle and the corners of her mouth bend down slightly at the end. Brittany laughed with her. _

_Santana stopped and took the love heart from Brittany's hands. She kissed it gently and then placed it at the top of her bed. Though small, it stood out from the rest of the girl's burgundy and black cushions. She smiled again._

"_I love you."_

_Brittany's insides went all warm. "I love you, too." She said, without even thinking. "Forever." _

_Santana had smiled then. Again, that priceless grin that meant, without a doubt, Brittany was the world to her – that she made her happier than she ever thought possible, and that nobody, not even Puck, or some stupid guy they might happen to meet at a bar one night, could ever come between that. The company that they each brought with each other was something that neither would ever find with anyone else – girl or boy – and Brittany knew at that moment, she would never feel lonely again; Santana would always be there. _

She wasn't just killing her beautiful, intelligent, inspirational best friend, she was killing herself. And vice versa. Whichever way that sentence went round, it was inevitably true. And though she felt there was nothing she could do to stop it, she knew it was all a lie. She could do everything to stop it. The whole future of her relationship with the brunette goddess was resting in her hands. And she wasn't doing a thing about it. Except worrying for 90% of the time and "sucking face", as Santana would say, with someone else, for the other 10%. It was all so wrong, but all so right at the same time.

She was scared. She knew that. But Santana didn't. Santana didn't know the real reason why she escaped to a late night bar that night. Santana didn't know the reason why she spoke to the kind and thoughtful barman who served her the millions of drinks she had. Santana didn't know the reason why she agreed to go back to his place and end up kissing him all night long – and that it didn't feel wrong even though she knew she was breaking her beautiful girl's heart as she did so.

But deep down, she knew it was wrong. She just couldn't feel that yet. She hated that she couldn't feel it. The only time it threatened to engulf her was when she saw the look on Santana's face every time she saw her. She didn't try to avoid eye contact with her though; if anything, she was trying to gain more of it. The more time she spent with the Latina, the less it hurt that she was actually hurting her.

She wondered if Santana understood that.

"Hey, Brittany." Mr Schue interrupted her thoughts. "Could you write down that Mercedes needs travel sickness tablets and Kurt needs flying socks."

Brittany did as she was told without even processing what her teacher had just said. Her writing looked less swirly than usual. She wondered why.

"And also that Santana isn't eating the plane food."

Brittany looked up then, a confused expression painted on her face. "Why?" She asked, forgetting the brunette would most likely not answer her.

She was sort of right. Santana looked to her left and then to her right, with just her glazed eyes, as if to say 'what the hell?' and then shrugged at the blonde. Brittany sighed and jotted something down about how Santana should pack breadstix and raspberry jam instead.

When she looked up, she saw that Mr Schue had all of them in a circle as they all high fived each other one by one. They were going tomorrow.

Brittany felt alone. And Santana wasn't there to help her.

She had to leave the room so she could cry. Alone.

CHAPTER 4 – I ache for what I lost in you

She saw her leave the room before, she was pretty certain, Brittany even knew she was leaving.

"I'm just going to the bathroom." She said, leaving the excited circle and following the blonde dancer as she saw her practically sprint to the toilet.

On her way, Santana passed their lockers – the exact location in which she had confessed her love for Brittany. She felt sick again, and would have headed back to the choir room if not for Brittany's incredibly loud sobs coming from inside the girl's bathroom. As Santana walked inside, she knew she could be making a massive mistake. The girl was vulnerable, and she needed the person she loved most, which was definitely not her.

She knocked on the only closed door and waited for it to open. It didn't.

She didn't want to speak in case Brittany shunned her out – she couldn't take that again. Instead, she knocked once more and waited once more for the door to open.

"I know it's you, San." A muffled voice admitted, sniffing.

Santana was taken aback. _Shit, _she thought.

"I know the way you breathe in and don't breathe out for about nine seconds, when you're nervous and when you're scared." Santana heard the blonde sniff again. "Why are you nervous and scared?"

Santana didn't know what to say. The words she wanted to say flew to her mouth by got stuck and trapped on the very tip of her tongue and this angered her. That made her nervous and the fact she was nervous made her scared. Why did Brittany know her so well?

"San?" Her lost voice echoed around the room. "Why?"

She just couldn't answer. As much as she desperately wanted to, she couldn't answer. She felt her legs buckle and she had to sit down before she collapsed. Her back fell against the door that was separating her from the love of her life, making a loud crashing noise. She felt Brittany jump.

"San, are you okay?"

Again, she couldn't speak. Holding her knees against her chest, she tucked herself up and simply leant against the gently shaking door. She felt a tear slide down her cheek and then another and she hoped to God Brittany wouldn't hear. If she did, she would open the door, and Santana didn't want her to see her crying.

She didn't. They both just sat there, two knowing one was crying, but only one knowing otherwise. It was all so ironic. Everything about this situation was all so ironic. It fucking sucked.

A sniff on Brittany's behalf was all that sounded between them, but all around, amidst the silence and the tears, millions and millions of words were being spoken but then lost in the grief of their incompatible state.

Santana hadn't been to this airport since she was about four. She didn't remember much. Other than that Brittany's family had met them there and they had all gone to Disneyworld Florida.

_Fucks sake,_ she thought, her eyes narrowing. _Why does everywhere and everything have to remind me of that god damn girl?_

Mr Schue told them to line up whilst they waited to check their bags in. There was an excited atmosphere surrounding the group and Santana couldn't help but feel out of place. She wasn't excited. She wasn't happy. She wasn't even looking forward to this trip because she was spending two whole weeks away from the girl she loved. It all hardly made sense but Santana knew she felt it.

As Santana walked up to the lady to heave her unusually light bag onto the scales, she felt an overwhelming sense of completion. Turning round, she saw that Brittany was running towards them, one bag shrugged over her pale shoulder, the other being dragged on its wheels behind her.

"Wait, Mr Schue, wait!" She called, her beautiful face red from exhaustion.

"Brittany!" He said, a smile forming on his face. "You decided to come."

"Well, my parents figured we were wasting a ticket which had huge opportunity written all over it, so I rushed here as quickly as I could." She frowned. "Except when I looked at the plane ticket, it didn't have 'huge opportunity' written anywhere on it."

There was an awkward silence for a while before Santana caught the dancer's eye and raised the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. But just as impulsively as she had done it, she instantly removed the smile and turned hastily back round.

Once on the plane, when the food was being brought out, Mr Schue leaned over from his seat to where Santana was sat next to Max, and handed her breadstix and jam. She gasped. She hadn't brought any food because she knew she wouldn't be hungry but her mouth watered at the sight of her favourite thing.

"How did you know this was my favourite?" She asked, her brow furrowed.

"Oh, I'm only doing what Brittany wrote down on my list for me." He said, smiling politely.

Santana looked over to the blonde who was sat next to Artie and studied her for a second. _She actually wrote this down to remind Mr Schue to get it for me. Why?_

In a way, it desperately annoyed her but in a more dominant way, it softened the touchiest of areas. Her heart ached for the feel of Brittany's warm hand on her thigh as they sat next to each other, Santana offering to share her breadstix and jam.

But, of course, that wasn't ever going to happen. Brittany was sat next to Artie, of all people, and it took all her strength not to undo her seatbelt, walk right over there and smash his four-eyed face into his skanky airplane food in front of him.

Max obviously felt her move slightly, and turned to look at her curiously.

"I think the toilet is full." His cheeks pinked slightly. "I could hear Mercedes complaining behind."

Santana smiled at his genuine warmth. "Oh, it's okay." She smiled wider. "I was actually just going to punch someone, so I thank you for holding me back."

He looked slightly taken aback at her comment but her smirk calmed him down a little.

"I wouldn't have put you down as the violent type." He grinned. "Usually, they're small, and hobbit-like. And most of them seem to have blonde hair."

Santana laughed at his charisma. "I'm honestly not that violent. I just have control issues when it comes to anger. And four-eyes squeaky wheels over there."

Max chuckled and shook his head slightly. There was a comfortable silence before Santana asked him if he was excited to return to his home country.

"Oh, you know, I don't miss it that much. To be honest, it's a pretty dull country. Apart from the snow in the winter, and the occasional fish and chip buttie, life in England is like living in a tool box." Santana laughed at him, confused. "Take it literally." He added, pinking again.

"Well, I don't think I'm going to disagree with you." Santana admitted, looking around at the people on the flight. "Every British person on this vehicle only seems concerned with what the weather will be like and which family member they are seeing first." She laughed to herself. "So British."

It was Max's turn to laugh. His cheeks pinked way too often, Santana thought, but in a way it was rather cute. She noticed how his black curly hair always got caught in the curve of his ear lobe and she wondered why he didn't ever cut it.

"So, I take it you'd rather not be defying gravity right now." Max offered, getting the courage to look Santana in the eye. As soon as he did, once more, he blushed.

Santana laughed. "Depends what context you put that in."

Max raised his eyes, thoughtfully. "Well, at first I meant being on this flight, but after what you said, I'm now debating whether or not I meant what I said."

Santana smiled at his sweetness. "Honestly?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow and looking ahead of her, and then down at where her fingers were twisting around each other – almost as if they were looking for another pair of hands. "I'd do absolutely anything to defy gravity right now."

Max didn't seem to know what to say to that. Santana didn't mind. She was just being honest. A moment later, he seemed to find what he wanted to say and turned to her.

"In fantasy terms, you just have to find your wings again." He blushed at what he'd just said. "What I mean to say, is that it's not impossible. It's always a choice; you just have to make it."

Santana thought about what he'd just said. Did she have the opportunity to 'find her wings' again? She thought it sounded all rather gay and stupid-

God, there she went with that word again. She really used it out of context. She had to stop it.

"I'm sorry." Max said, turning to her again. "I'm no expert, I mean, I'm the youngest person here, you probably know way more than I do, or ever will for that matter."

Santana looked at the youth sat next to her. Innocence all round. Just like Brittany, he seemed to know exactly the right thing to say and make whatever that was right, and obvious. She smiled a thank you at him. He seemed to take it that she believed he was right, when she didn't, she just couldn't think of anything to say. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Brittany could see her sleeping. She loved it when she slept. She looked so peaceful and so vulnerable that she always felt she had to hold her in her arms. She suddenly felt a huge urge to walk right over to her and slip her arms around her fragile frame.

Artie sensed her move slightly. "Where are you going, girl?"

She jumped, resting back into her seat. "Nowhere."

"Oh, come on. You were on your way out of your seat. I've never seen someone move with such intent."

Brittany felt trapped. She looked across at Santana again and sighed at herself. What had she become?

"Oh." Artie said, finally understanding. "Well, she's sleeping so you can't speak to her."

"I didn't say I wanted to."

"You moved, Brittany."

"Artie, why are you so interested in the fact that I moved?"

"Because you were going to go to her."

"So? Why do you assume that she's a bad person?"

"Brittany, we've had this conversation before, you know we have."

"So you should know my answer."

Artie was silent for a while. "Brittany, you've just met someone who is not simply using you for sex. Can you please give him a chance?"

Brittany turned so sharply round to the boy, she knocked his water over, drenching the crotch of his pants. She was too angry to care. "Santana did not use me just for sex." She spat, glaring at him.

"Could have fooled me." Artie replied, dabbing at his pants with a nearby napkin.

Brittany felt her eyes water. This is what she was doing to the poor brunette. Making her out to be this big fat user, only intent on getting in Brittany's pants, which was so far from the truth, they didn't even know each other existed.

"Santana would _never_ use me just for sex."

She thought about the times when they had been in bed together and they were so intimate and so special, it made Brittany's blood boil so high, she thought she was going to rocket out of the plane.

Artie didn't say anything – instead, he plugged his earphones in and began to watch a movie. Brittany turned her back on him and continued to study Santana. The Latina stirred slightly when Max leaned over her to take something from an air hostess but quickly settled back into her comfortable position.

Brittany imagined all the things she would be doing to Santana, was she sitting next to the beauty. She felt her hands intertwine with the other's, and relished in the feeling of the spaces in between her fingers full and content. She saw how her other hand would curve its way around the brunette's face and stroke it gently, outlining the perfection. Her lips would occasionally make their way to her cheek and kiss it so softly, Santana wouldn't even move a muscle. Her body would move carelessly into the mould of the Latina's and their bodies would fit perfectly, filling each other in their emptiness. Nothing would be out of place; nothing would be vacant. So much completion would be present in their position that the whole airplane – hell, the whole universe – would envy them. They would envy the special and rare love the two shared and Brittany knew that's what she craved most of all. That rarity she found solely in Santana.

An unwelcome image of Nick popped into her head.

_Go away_, she thought, frowning. She turned back round to Santana and noticed the brunette staring directly at her. It scared her that Santana had woken up so instantly.

Brittany cherished the feeling of Santana's eyes penetrating her own – it hadn't happened in so long. But as soon as it began, it was over, and Brittany could have sworn the whole plane felt her heart crash to the ground, a boom sound echoing around the crevasses of her broken body, shattering the tiny bright stars that shone through the window to her right.

Her eyes watered again and she had to leave to the bathroom so she could let the tears out. It's not that she was afraid of showing her pain – she just didn't want Santana to see it because she knew if she did, Santana would forgive her with every last bone in her body and Brittany didn't want that – she didn't deserve to be forgiven.

In the privacy and safety of the miniature bathroom, Brittany let the silent tears fall freely down the sides of her face. It wasn't a racking attack of tears – just a gentle flow of empty nothings. She was getting tired of all this grieving. There was so much of it. Her body just couldn't take it.

Outside, she felt someone knock.

"I'll be out in a minute, hang on one second." She said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Brittany couldn't help but feel even worse at the irony of what she'd just said.

She opened the door and threw her head down, so the person waiting wouldn't see her red face. She got caught between the woman and the bathroom door, making the situation more awkward. She looked down at the feet of the woman and noticed they were covered in black fluffy socks. Black sweatpants were tucked into them, and Brittany recognised them instantly. She looked up, smiling as she did so.

Her smile vanished when she saw the Latina's face.

Santana, deadpan, looked straight at Brittany in the eye, and once more, the blonde couldn't help but react lovingly to it.

"Sorry, San." She stuttered, moving as quickly as she could.

Santana looked at her as she edged backwards. Brittany noticed how her beautiful lips were partly open, as if they were willing something to come out, but something inside her, something that Brittany was unaware of, was holding it back. She could see it in Santana's eyes that she desperately wanted to embrace her as much as she wanted to embrace Santana. The brunette's eyes could tell Brittany things, only she would ever understand. Santana didn't know that Brittany knew she was feeling the same grief. She thought that the blonde only saw her anger and her bitterness.

Brittany walked backwards several steps before smiling lightly at the Latina and turning back round to rejoin Artie. On her way back, she couldn't help but buckle over slightly at the pain that slashed her abdomen.

So much stupid pain. She wished she didn't have a heart and that she could get it taken out of her quickly. She wondered if there was a Wizard in London. That way, she wouldn't ever look at Santana again and feel the brunette's pain engulf her more than it did her own.

Santana hadn't been sleeping. She was excellent at pretending to be sound asleep but really, the eyes that saw through her facade could see that the blonde had been staring at her the whole time. She could feel them burning her with their beauty. Blue, blue, blue, all over Santana's caramel skin.

She'd seen her leave for the bathroom and she knew why. She wanted to cry again, like she had the other day. Santana was out of her seat before she could even sit back down, without looking weird. She didn't want Brittany to sense her outside like she had last time, so she had made an extra conscious effort to not breathe every nine seconds and to stand as still as she could. Luckily, the engine was making far too much noise for her breathing to even be heard by someone on the same side of the door as her.

She knocked because Brittany had taken longer than ten minutes. When she'd heard her sweet, honey voice floating out of the bathroom, a crack present in it, her heart ached more than it had the whole flight. When the door finally opened, Santana completely forgot what she was meant to say and the words just died on her open lips. She didn't return Brittany's smile – she was trying hard to remember what she'd got out of her seat for.

When the dancer had spoke her name, part of Santana died again, and she couldn't say or do anything, in fear of a strangled croak leaving her mouth from the pain. Watching her walk back to her seat and seeing her bend down slightly, for some reason, Santana saw that Brittany was actually in pain.

_She has no reason to be._

Maybe she did and Santana was just being selfish. She couldn't take all the pain. Even though she had a right to.

When she had taken her seat, she noticed the sun rising and Max stir from the seat next to her. She smiled at him, thankful for his wake present. A feeling of security and warmth overwhelmed her and she wondered why.

Max smiled sweetly at her and both of them looked out the window, watching the sunrise. She would have loved sharing this moment with Brittany – their arms and fingers intertwined so deeply, you wouldn't be able to tell who's belonged to whom. But sharing it with Max was nearly as lovely. He, after all, was the only one who had even made an attempt to put her fire at ease and she had a right to be nice to him.

"Nearly there." She said, smiling at the young boy as he turned his head round to look at her.

He blushed. "Not long now." He replied, his eyes glittering. "Not long now."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 – I am an empty laughter, with the taken heart

Their minibus was late.

_Typical_, Santana thought, rolling her eyes when Mr Schue told them.

They waited around for several minutes, Tina and Mercedes playing some sort of game with their hands, Mike and Sam lost in a conversation about British sport. Kurt was explaining to Lauren about all the fashion labels present in London, whilst Artie and Brittany sat in what seemed like awkward silence, next to Mr Schue. Max came and stood next to where Santana was leaning against the stone wall.

"Like what you see so far?" He asked, frowning from the morning sun.

Santana snorted. "So this is what they call Britain?"

Max chortled. "Yes, this is it. Cars, electricity pylons, and the occasional kite roaming the generally grey sky. It's beautiful."

Santana laughed at his sarcasm. "Yeah, well, it's not much better than Ohio, so I feel at home already."

"You? At home, anywhere but Lima Heights Adjacent?" Sam asked, overhearing their conversation.

Santana glared at him. "Oh quit the crap, guppy lips." She growled, looking down at the floor. She felt Max shift beside her. She felt like apologizing but she wasn't in the mood. The minibus was late.

"Maybe I was wrong." Max said, looking into the distance. "Perhaps the violent female types are actually all brunette. And Hispanic."

Santana couldn't help but laugh and looked over to where Max was staring. "Maybe."

The minibus eventually arrived and they sat in generally the same places as the airplane. Max offered Santana an earplug but she politely refused, instead turning back to the window to take in her surroundings. England wasn't much. Just like Max had described really. Apart from the odd sheep here and there, as well.

The journey to Brian Higgins Secondary wasn't too long and before they knew it, they arrived at the large iron gates and made their way to the front of the school. Santana still wasn't sure about this whole idea – the thought of spending two weeks in a cheap English hotel with the rest of the glee club filled her with horror. She nearly gagged at the thought of it.

Brian Higgins Secondary was ancient. Not only was the main building an old English mansion but the driveway was about three miles long.

"Oh my god, are we going to be overwhelmed with posh-headed rich kids who can afford juice like this, Mr Schue?" Mercedes questioned with an ounce of panic on her face and in her voice. Santana felt the same. She hated rich kids.

"Mercedes, the English aren't all multi-millionaires." He replied, giving her a look.

Santana didn't believe him for one second.

When they got out of the minibus, they walked towards the 'Reception' to 'sign in'. A man, a little older than Schuester, with long brown hair and a chubby face, greeted them with big, British hugs. Santana felt sick.

"Welcome, welcome!" He boomed, throwing his arms in the air. "Come, follow me to The Barn."

The group did as they were told, an air of nerves surrounding them. Santana felt for someone's hands to grab but mentally slapped herself when she dragged herself back to reality. Instead, Max shuffled up next to her and told her that it would be okay. She liked this kid.

In the 'The Barn', a large group of students were sat in the auditorium, watching two girls performing on the stage. Some stood up and smiled as the New Directions entered.

The booming man, apparently known as Mr Childs (though Santana preferred Mr Boom), offered them all seats. "You're just in time for a sneak peak at our rehearsal."

They all laughed. Except for Santana. _What the hell was so funny?_

The two girls on stage were the two best friends. Santana quickly looked around for a sharp exit but found nothing. _Great_.

The music started and Santana nearly choked. They were singing 'Don't Upset The Rhythm' by The Noisettes. She was expecting some sort of acoustic cover of 'The Lord of the Dance', or some other religious hymn.

Santana forced herself to watch the two girls. The darker girl was wearing a deep blue, denim dress, with a tan belt strapped around her waist. She had long light brunette hair, and wore a quirky cream hat with blue beads sewn around the edge. She moved around the stage making sneaky movements at the blonde dancing with her. She sang the majority of the song, whilst the braided-head sang the quirky parts.

That's how Santana would describe them – quirky. The way the braided-blonde sang with her microphone at awkward angles and made subtle but effective movements with her feet.

She was cool, the braided one. She too wore a denim dress, but a shade lighter than the other girl, and for a moment, Santana felt sick at the two of them matching. But it vanished when the girl opened her mouth to sing. She had a funny voice – not terrible and in need of work – just funny. Different. Not the kind of singing voice you often hear these days. It sounded like she'd been plucked from some church choir and placed into a group of power singers and was forced to quirk it up a little. It sounded nice, and the Latina couldn't help but get sucked in to the performance.

The braids weren't as bad as they seemed in the videos. They were actually quite nice – they suited the girl and the way she moved across the stage and around her best friend. They were long – past the girl's breasts. The top of her head was left free, the sides braided strictly to the side of her face. Santana thought she looked just like a Pussycat Doll.

The blonde's clumpy boots hardly made a creak on the old wooden stage and Santana couldn't understand how she could be so light. She was moving so quickly and so obviously but no noise ever came above a whisper.

She also noticed that the two were sickeningly in sync. Much like her and Brittany used to do, the girls lifted their left arms at exactly the same time and by the way their eyes danced at each other, it was obvious it wasn't choreographed. Santana felt such a loss but at the same time, a huge sense of hope.

When the number was over, they bowed and left the stage to join everyone else. Mr Boom hopped onto stage and addressed them all.

"So, the gang and I are all very excited that you're here and that we get to share such an experience with you." As he carried on, he introduced each of his students. Santana didn't pay much attention to any of the people except for when he mentioned the braided-blonde.

"This is Oakley, my star acoustic girl." Oakley blushed and Santana surprised herself by feeling warmed by it.

_What was it with people blushing recently?_

Slumped in her seat, Santana began biting her finger, willing Oakley to look at her. She didn't know why, she just knew she wanted her attention.

She didn't get it. Instead, Oakley told the New Directions that they would have a lot of fun and that England wasn't as bad as they were probably thinking. Santana had laughed then.

Brittany turned to look at her, distinctively remembering the sound of the gorgeous noise.

Santana's smile faded and she tried as hard as she could to stare straight at Oakley. There was no way she was giving the dancer the satisfaction.

When introductions were finished, Mr Boom let the groups mingle whilst he sorted things out with Mr Schue. Santana didn't quite know what to do. Kurt and Lauren were talking to the larger boy on one side of her and Sam, Mike, Tina and Mercedes seemed to have got into a comfortable conversation with a blonde boy, a Filipino girl, two younger brunettes and the dark kid Santana recognised from their website. In front of her, Brittany and Artie were chatting to a short blonde girl and it made Santana's heart freeze seeing the dancer talk to another girl who she didn't know.

_Get over it, Lopez. _

Oddly, she found herself searching for Max but didn't intervene when she saw him talking to a tall brunette guy, who seemed to have a slight limp.

_Fantastic. Just sit here looking like you don' care_.

"Hey."

_Shit._

"Hi." She replied, turning around to see Oakley and her best friend.

Oakley smiled sweetly at her. Santana noticed how straight her teeth were. It was freaky. She also noticed that up close, Oakley had an exceptional amount of moles around the right corner of her mouth. It was nice. Her left ear was also covered with piercings all down the side of the ear, the lobe and the inner section. It was like one big crazy party, going on in just her left ear. There were diamonds, plain silver and gold studs, and then the occasional 'O' and 'L', what for, she didn't know.

"I'm Oakley. This is my friend, V."

Santana smiled at V, politely. "I'm Santana."

"Oh, nice name." Oakley said, her eyes glittering. "After-"

"No." Santana interrupted instantly. "After nobody."

"Oh." Oakley replied, not at all fazed by Santana's rudeness. "I guess it would suck balls being named after someone."

"Oh thanks, Oakley." V said, jabbing her friend with her finger.

"Apart from you. But at least you're named after someone remotely interesting."

Santana frowned at them.

"She's named after Vanilla Ice." Oakley explained, biting her lip.

Santana frowned harder.

"No, I'm not." V said, jabbing her friend again. "I'm named after Queen Victoria. Really, it's not as interesting as Oakley makes out."

"I thought Vanilla Ice was interesting." Oakley joked, smiling playfully at her friend. "Don't you agree, Santana?"

It felt weird hearing her say Santana's name out loud. She kind of liked it. It took her aback a little.

"I prefer rum and raison." Santana replied, smiling ever so slightly.

"Oh, yeah, same, that's a much more interesting flavour." Oakley said, her eyes dancing again.

"Neither of those two are interesting." V said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, it's all about coffee."

"Coffee's good." Santana agreed, smiling a little bit more. "So is Queen Victoria."

"Thank you." Oakley, said, exasperatedly.

"No, she's just a queen." V complained, her brow furrowed.

"How can you say that?" Oakley wondered, raising her eyebrows. "She was so interesting. She was crowned when she was still a teenager and when her husband died she refused to wear anything but black. Come on, she's seriously exciting."

"Maybe I should go marry Prince Harry, get crowned before I turn twenty, and then when he dies, go and buy all of the black stuff in Topshop and refuse to take any of it off, just so you'll find me remotely interesting." V teased, laughing at Oakley.

"I already do." She replied tenderly.

Santana felt sick again and her face fell only slightly at the thought of what she had lost with Brittany. When she looked back up, Oakley and V were looking over her shoulder. When she turned around she saw a woman appear at the opening to The Barn. V stood up and wondered over to her.

"That's V's mum." Oakley explained, smiling at Santana. "She works in the office here. She's so lovely." Oakley waved at V's mum before returning her attention to Santana. "So, you like singing?"

Santana shrugged. "Sometimes."

Oakley grinned at this. "It's better than school, right?"

Santana cocked her head and thought about it. "Yeah."

There was a comfortable silence as the two looked silently around the room. Santana's attention went straight to Brittany, who was sat a couple of rows in front of her. She was still talking to the short blonde girl and her heart ached once more. She looked down at her fumbling hands as they pulled at the skin at the foundations of her fingers. Brittany should have her hand there. She was in a foreign room, in a foreign school, in a foreign country and more than anything, she just wanted some familiarity. Just the feel of Brittany's soft honey skin in her own rough ones, and she would feel instantly at home.

Damn Brittany.

Around The Barn, hung shields and plaques with names of students engraved on them. There were so many, Santana wondered just how many rich kids had attended this stupid school. Oakley sensed her thoughts.

"My dad owns all of the Starbucks stores across the country which means we have the most massive house – a mansion actually – and outside, we have three pools and several hot tubs dotted around the place." She paused to drink in Santana's widened expression. "It also means that my sisters and I get shit loads of allowance on a weekly basis, so we are never short of money to go out clubbing, visit the theatre, watch Polo match after Polo match, and become members of gyms and golf clubs around the country." She took a breath in, to start again, as if she had to do this speech to a lot for curious, expectant people. "My mum spends all her time sleeping in her giant four-poster bed, and when she's up, she still does nothing except laze around by the lake house whilst her cleaners, her cooker, and her maid does everything else. All our meals are organic and cooked for us and nothing is ever done badly. My father has jobs planned for my sisters and I and my younger brother already has a fiancé. We have an exceptionally huge library where any book named under the sun lives. There is also a courtyard in which we own around ten to fifteen horses ranging from Polo ponies to full on race horses. I have my own, which I take to shows and win most of them, but then I have to find a room to put all out winnings in, so my dad has built one which we dedicate to all that." She paused again, and sighed exhaustedly. "Oh, and we also have this huge water fountain outside, and if anybody dare touches it, or goes in it, my dad will sack them, or exclude them from our family." She nodded thoughtfully. "I have a lush life and I don't have to do a thing. I have a personal trainer, who keeps me fit and in good shape and life just doesn't get any better than that, right?" Her eyes widened, again. "I mean, my dad even pays for my hairdresser to come to the house, and I have to pay him extra because she's a commoner who owns one of those cheap and tacky no-go places on the back streets of London, but it's all worth it. I don't speak to her – god, why would I speak to a commoner? – But she does a good job so I can't complain. We have several ducks, geese, chickens and peacocks – they're just for design though. And I can't remember how much land we own – something along the lines of fifty acres. You should come round sometime, but you might have to remove the baggy sweatpants and the severely unhappy face because none of that is welcome in our house. Oh, sorry, mansion. Okay?"

Santana blinked several times and didn't actually know what the hell to do with herself. And there she was, thinking this rich kid was actually kind of okay, when in all honesty, she was a right fucking bitch, who needed to learn what life was really fucking like.

She felt her eyes glaze over and the anger boiled inside of her. Just as she was about to tell the girl that she needed to go and stick her invite up someone else's rich arse, Oakley grinned.

"I mean, really, you don't have to come over. You can just come to the other house, the one with two bedrooms, and one bathroom, and a cooker that doesn't even work. We can have a take away, or something like that, because that's way nicer than what the granny cooks make, and then you can stay but it'd be on a load of cushions from the only sofa we have in the whole house , so I don't know if that'd be too down and dirty for you. It's your choice." Oakley's deep blue eyes danced. "I'd go with the second option – the first one sounds awful. But that's just my opinion."

Santana smiled, slowly. "Yeah," she started, "the first option's a bit out of my league."

Oakley frowned. "Nothing's out of anybody's league." She smiled sweetly. "I doubt it, anyway."

Santana didn't quite know what she meant by that, but she didn't care. Oakley was funny – she completely didn't handle things the way Santana expected her to. Everything was really unexpected, and that was quite a fresh thing for the Latina right now.

"If I was a proper singer wannabe, I would have told you by now, that I feel a duet coming on, but right now, in all honesty, that's the last thing I'm thinking of." Santana attempted a joke but felt like she'd failed miserably. She hung her head in silent shame.

Oakley laughed. "We have two weeks. By then, the jet lag will have gone."

Santana looked up and smiled. She looked across at Brittany and saw her sitting alone, scrolling through something on her cell phone. Her smile faded for what seemed like the millionth time that day. She looked back up at Oakley and noticed the girl studying her.

"Chinese or Indian?" She asked, innocently curious.

"Chinese." Santana replied, frowning. She seemed to be doing a lot of that.

"I'll give the cook a call and tell her that's what I want when you come over for that duet date."

Santana laughed. As she did, Brittany's little blonde haired turned round sharply again and for once, Santana didn't stop just for the sake of the blonde's protection. She stopped when it was natural to, and only then did she see Brittany smile to herself a little and turn back round.

Santana frowned. Again. Why had Brittany smiled?

She liked Brittany's smile. It was nice seeing it. Maybe, she should laugh more, and that way, Brittany's smile would be ever more present in her horribly empty life.

Yeah. She should laugh more.

"Hey, Britt!" Artie called the girl over, to where he was sat in his wheelchair in the aisle. "We're going on a look round. Coming?"

Santana noticed how Brittany instantly looked towards her, as if to ask whether she was or not, but on remembering their current positions with one another, turned back around and nodded a quick and somewhat unwilling, 'yes'.

Santana sighed. Brittany's smile hadn't lasted, and neither had hers. That all too familiar wrench caught her in the abdomen and once again, the brunette was thrown into a slight conflict within herself, as she bent over and put her head in her hands, wishing she was anywhere but there.

"Stomach cramps?" She heard Oakley say.

Santana immediately looked up to the braided girl. "Something like that."

Oakley smiled warmly. "I know the feeling."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 – And so the silence clashes with the collision

Happiness. Warmth. Beauty. Soul. That's what her laugh sounded like. It was everything and more. Every sound that was released from those beautiful, plump lips sounded like honey. The way it exploded at first – a genuine burst of humour – made Brittany feel much like a duckling must feel the first time it takes to water – free, excited, and beyond happy. And it wasn't just the sound of the laughter, but the feel and the foundations of it. It lifted the room higher than any skyscraper and without sounding too fairytale, it brought with its beauty, a sense of purpose and magic. That's what it was. Magic.

If only the magic would last.

Brittany loved that Santana was beginning to laugh again but it sucked beyond words that it wasn't with her. They used to make each other laugh more than anyone else; Brittany was still convinced that nobody – not even this dreadlocked, funny girl – could make the brunette goddess laugh more than she could. She just had to prove it to herself, but most of all to Santana.

In her bed, she sighed heavily. None of the other girls seemed to hear, all of them too wrapped up in their midnight dreams – that place where everything is perfectly fine, and all you have to do is enjoy it.

Santana often appeared in her dreams. Brittany had read somewhere that when you dream of someone else, it means they miss you. She hoped it was true. She almost knew it was true. The way Santana's eyes always fell on her when they were asked questions, and the way Brittany always felt Santana's presence, even when she wasn't in the same room, told her that she did. That Santana missed her.

She missed Santana too.

She rolled over and settled into a different position. English hotel beds were not comfy. Not like her own bed – or Santana's for that matter.

Santana had a gorgeous bed. Large, yet extremely cosy, with beautiful clean cream sheets and burgundy covers that just seemed to envelope you with protection and honesty. It always smelled like her too. The coconut fragrances that continuously rose from the sheets used to make Brittany melt not only into them, but into Santana as well. She knew she couldn't sleep because she couldn't smell the coconut.

Impulsively, she walked silently across the sleep strewn room, into the bathroom and carefully felt for the little cardigan Santana had hung up on the door earlier that night. She didn't make a sound as she brought it towards her body and when she inhaled the deep, familiar perfume that draped the clothing, her heartbeat was instantly calmed and her body regained its natural sleepiness.

When she returned to her bed, she brought the cardigan up to her nose and spent the rest of the night breathing in and breathing out the scent of her broken heart.

Santana knew she had gone to the bathroom to get her cardigan. It surprised her that part of her didn't actually want to charge over to the blonde's bed and snatch it out of her innocent hands. She actually wanted the complete opposite – she wanted Brittany to have it and to hold it, so she could sleep. It meant, to Santana, that the girl still loved her very much and though that should make her feel incredibly angry, it really comforted her on so many levels.

She listened to the sounds of Brittany's now calm breaths, deep through the material of the cotton cardigan. It sounded like a baby. It made Santana smile.

Earlier in the night, she had grown tremendously anxious and somewhat concerned at the way the blonde had been breathing. Brittany had been lying on her bed, the duvet rising so high above her, it was as if she was breathing in a pregnancy in every breath. They had also been terribly fast, like when someone breathes during a panic attack. Santana was pretty certain Brittany had been on the brink of one. Maybe that was why she didn't feel like taking the thing off her. If it settled her, then it settled Santana.

She had been so close to walking over to her and climbing into bed next to her, curving her body into the shape of the dancer's, just to see if that would relax her but just as her impulses had practically gained victory on her, Brittany had moved out of bed and when she returned, the Latina could see the faint yellow glow of the cotton cardigan buried in the blonde's face.

It was then that she knew she had to remain in her own bed. If she had moved, she probably would have woken up a sleeping Mercedes next to her and that would have been annoying to deal with.

In the morning, Santana was surprised to actually be woken up. She guessed she had drifted off in the early hours and that confused her. She hadn't slept at all since the night Brittany left her.

"Wakey, wakey, Little Miss I-sleep-though-my-alarm-on-purpose." Mercedes greeted, giving Santana's warm cheek a gentle slap.

Santana slapped the hand away and turned back over. It was 7am. Why the fuck were they up this early?

"How English kids do it, I don't know." Tina commented, locking the door of the bathroom.

"Come on, girl, move that plump little ass of yours." Mercedes said, directing her gaze at Santana.

Getting up, Santana looked across to Brittany's empty bed. The cardigan wasn't anywhere. Santana smiled gently to herself, on the realisation that the cute little blonde had placed it back exactly where she had found it.

She stretched and looked at her unpacked bag on the floor.

_What the hell to wear, Lopez._

When she had finally got out of the bed, she slumped herself onto the floor and put her head in her hands, yawning. She hated mornings. When Brittany had stayed over, she would get up before Santana and head downstairs to make her a huge mug of black cinnamon coffee before bringing it back upstairs and sliding back into bed next to her. Santana waited for the smell of the cinnamon to creep its way up her nostrils but all she could smell was the usual muskiness that hotels always seemed to have.

She sighed. This was going to be long.

"Why don't you just wear something easy? I mean, it doesn't have to be smart or anything. This is England we are talking about here." Lauren suggested from across the room, where she was already up, dressed and prepared for the day.

Santana looked down at her plain, baggy grey t-shirt and black sweatpants she had worn in bed and thought amusingly, why shouldn't she just wear that?

When she looked back up, Brittany was bending over her bed, reaching for her pyjama top. Santana noticed the way her cream skin seemed so delicate and fragile, and the way her long blonde hair fell gently across the lines of her face. Given any other day, Santana would have relished in the sight of the dancer removing her pyjamas and dressing for the day. She grieved for the loss of that sight.

Brittany turned towards her, paused, and quickly turned back to her bed.

Again, Santana sighed.

_Just wear whatever you find first._

That was a plain black t-shirt, jeans and some old black converses she'd found at the bottom of her closet before leaving. They were the only thing that didn't remind her of the blonde.

When they arrived at Brian Higgins Secondary, it wasn't raining anymore. The clouds had parted, and the first rays of the sun began shining through. Santana felt her head sink at the idea of spending another day in this dump.

"Ah, shit." She exclaimed, leaning back in her seat and holding her arms up in exasperation. Trust her to spill her drink all over herself. It wasn't even like she'd made an effort but she suddenly felt incredibly angry and defeated. "Fucks sake, this had to happen to me, didn't it?" She mumbled something to herself. "God's fucking having a joke up there."

"Santana?" Mr Schue warned, turning around in his seat. "Language."

Santana shook her head in some sort of apology and once the minibus stopped, she got and out and tried desperately to shake the water off her. She looked like she'd wet herself. Everywhere.

She felt sick again, and so homesick, she wanted to cry. At least if she did, it wouldn't make any difference to the way she looked – physically and emotionally.

Mercedes and Tina ignored her, walking towards the choir room instead. Lauren and Kurt merely laughed at her before following the other two and Sam, Mike and Artie just looked down on her.

_What the fuck was their problem?_

She had to turn around so they wouldn't see that her eyes had welled up. She felt a hand on her shoulder and then Max's voice ringing in her ear.

"Want a tissue?"

"I think it's a bit late for that now." She replied, quickly wiping her eye so Max wouldn't see, before turning back round to him. "I look like a kid that just got freaking pushed in a river."

"Have one anyway. They help in more ways than one." He smiled gently at her. Santana took the tissue and hesitantly dabbed at her stomach and chest. She felt a bit awkward wiping her breasts in front of Max but he just blushed and turned around.

"Thanks." She said, looking around for somewhere to put the tissue.

"I got it." Max said, taking it from her and shoving it in his jean pocket.

Just as they went to follow the rest of the group, Santana noticed Brittany standing at the entrance of the school, looking at them. When the blonde saw them walking, she quickly moved and scurried after the others.

"Some days you're the pigeon and other days, you're the statue." Max said, looking at where Brittany had just left and then to Santana.

Santana didn't react. Just carried on walking.

"At least when you're the pigeon, you can fly away from whatever's shitting on you." He continued.

Santana chucked, lowly. "I've not heard you swear. It sounds kinda weird in a British accent."

Max smiled. "It sounds better. More fierce."

Santana smiled again and let the silence fall before they reached the choir room. Mr Boom was pulling together all the chairs left in the room and joined them in a semi-circle. Santana and Max sat on the last two at the end.

"So, today," he started, addressing all of them, "I thought we'd split you into pairs, one from each school and let you get to know each other before you start working on a duet together." He looked to Mr Schue who smiled.

"We thought we'd pair you up for the whole two weeks and then at the end, culminate the experience with a production of all your duets." Mr Schue smiled again. "We've put you with people you wouldn't usually mix with, just to stir it up a little, and see what two different voices and personalities can come up with."

Santana didn't listen to anyone's partners except when it got to Brittany and herself. The blonde was paired off with a blonde guy called Josh, who looked like a complete jerk, and Santana thought slyly to herself: _good, teach her a lesson, Jerky Josh._

When she was paired with Oakley, her heart surprisingly brightened. The bouncy braided girl skipped over to her and dragged another chair up close.

"I was hoping I would be paired with you." She said, looking around at everyone else.

"Why?" Santana asked, moodily.

"Because they don't look nearly as interesting as you." She answered, widening her eyes and biting her lips.

"You like interesting people."

"There is nothing worse than someone who has absolutely no opinions or beliefs."

"Isn't that kind of impossible?"

"Exactly." Oakley's eyes widened even further, if that was physically possible. "I like you already."

Across the room, Santana saw Oakley laugh at V's raised eyebrows at her pairing with Sam. Santana, again, felt that wave of jealousy sweep though her, that she couldn't laugh at Brittany's own raised eyebrows for Josh. She lowered her head.

"Thank you for not being a guy." She heard Oakley say.

She looked up, confused. "Huh?"

"Because if you were a guy, we'd probably be doing some sort of song and dance about love and how much we can't get enough of each other." Oakley grinned. "The usual, when Childs over there suggests duets."

Santana looked over at their English teacher. She guessed they did duets quite a lot.

"Please tell me you like all music." The dreadlock girl said, her eyes glittering.

Santana slanted her mouth. "I guess so." She laughed to herself at the memory of Rachel Berry. "As long as it's not some song about pathetic aspects of life."

"Oh, enlighten me. What are pathetic aspects of life?" Oakley pulled her chair in closer.

"Oh, you know. Your hair band or being an only child." Santana answered honestly.

Oakley's face twitched at the same time as her eyes squinted with amusement. "I always thought my hair band was worthy of a song." She joked, grinning. "But I never liked the melodies it came up with, so I just decided it was better off without one." She smiled at Santana's face. "And now it has a song of its own."

Santana studied the girl's braids. It was a complete mish-mash of dreadlocks, plaits, thick braids, and random twizzles with old bits of wool and ribbon entangled within it. The tight plaits at the sides of her face were stuck like magnets on her temples and the free growing bit at the top was hair-sprayed into a quiff of some sort. Santana wouldn't normally like the look (most likely, she would have made some snarky remark about how Oakley looked like a fired Pussycat Doll who had been intoxicated by some stranded rat poison, had she been herself) but she actually digged the look.

"It's cool." She said.

"It's nothing but a clash of black and white piano keys and colliding rainbows." She replied, smiling slightly.

Santana liked this girl. She was different and refreshing.

"Maybe we can use it as inspiration for this final duet." She offered, perking up a little.

"What, my hair?" Oakley asked in disbelief. "This ambush up here has absolutely no talent whatsoever in providing inspiration. In fact, it does the complete opposite, so it'll give us as many ideas as a dog will."

"Dogs have ideas."

"About eating shoes and humping every leg that moves, yeah." Oakley laughed. Santana liked the way she laughed at herself. She could never do that.

She looked around at the others. They all seemed to be really into the idea of duets. Mike already had the fat kid, Fergus, up on his toes, trying to make him move much like he had Finn last year. Kurt was informing the Filipino kid, Tia, about the wonders of New York and Mercedes was laughing dramatically with this small brunette, Emily. In the corner of the room, she spotted Brittany curled up on her chair, her arms wrapped round her protectively. Jerky Josh seemed to be trying to impress her. Part of Santana bitterly willed him to carry on but the other part of her wanted desperately to go over to the girl and wrap her arms around her so she could do the protecting.

Fuck that.

In another corner, the Latina noticed Max sat talking to the black kid. He was trying to teach the fifteen-year-old to rap and he wasn't having much luck. Oakley saw her looking towards them and laughed lowly.

"They'll make a great pair." She said, almost to herself. Santana turned around, questioningly. "Well one's white and the other's black."

Santana laughed again, causing Brittany to turn around. "That's something I would say."

Oakley laughed this time. "We'll make a great pair as well. You're Hispanic and I'm Caucasian."

Although there was irony and sarcasm present in Oakley's comments, she seemed to round them off so perfectly with amusement and genuine understanding.

"May I ask what happened with your top today?"

Santana looked down at the drying dampness and blushed. "The water spilt on the way here."

"Sure you weren't pushed in the river down the road?" She asked, looking Santana straight in the eye, seriously, but with a hint of amusement.

"Sure."

"I'm glad that's settled. Shall we discuss our plan for the next two weeks?"

"Hit me."

"I'd rather not. I give quite a lethal strike. I found that out when I was using V's brother's Wii." She paused. "I broke their TV."

Santana laughed, raising her eyebrows.

"In my defence, I was angry, and I had a right to be." She smiled, prettily. "But I won't get angry with you. Unless you pitch some god awful song about a hair band, then I might just have to take a swing at you."

Santana grinned. "Hair bands aren't my thing."

Oakley grinned back. "They're not my thing either."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 – the voice that calms the sea

She wasn't sure she liked standing on another stage. It didn't feel right. She felt like if she opened her mouth, the words would just topple over the notes and end up in a messy pile at the bottom of the auditorium.

"Relax." She heard the girl say, sitting down at the piano. "Nobody's here, so really, the walls couldn't give a shit what you did or sung."

Oakley pulled herself closer to the piano. "Listen." She slammed one of the piano keys down and with the exact same pitch as the note, yelled loudly out to the whole auditorium. "See? Go for it, Lopez."

Santana laughed, again. Without a microphone, she felt sort of empty, but when Oakley begun playing, her voice found itself gently escaping.

They had decided to warm up to each other's voices with Mariah Carey's 'Hero' and as Santana felt her voice echo the walls of the old barn, she felt a little better. She actually wasn't worried about what the braided girl thought of her voice – she didn't stop the piano and say that was awful, or look up at her with a confused expression on her face – and she guessed Oakley was the type to do that. In a polite, and equally amusing way. She imagined how Oakley would have behaved around Rachel Berry. She nearly laughed though the song.

Then Oakley began singing and Santana was, once again, taken aback by the conflicting genres of the girl's voice. The choir kid was present in the way she held the notes for longer than Santana would and the way each word was pronounced perfectly. But there was also this sense of fragility and carefree power that escaped her vocals and there was something so iconic and beautiful in that. Like she was having fun with the words and the meaning of it.

Santana also envied the way she played so elegantly through her fingers, whilst still managing to produce such an organic and pure sound from her mouth. It wasn't like Santana wished she could play the piano – she just wished she had the same aura as Oakley.

The harmonies and adlibs came easy to the Latina. She'd been singing for so long, she was used to creating something from scratch. It was odd doing that with someone who could do it equally as naturally. They worked well together; Santana couldn't deny it.

When the song was finished, silence fell between them. Santana smiled and walked over to the piano and leant on the side, thoughtfully. She had enjoyed the song, it was a shame it was over.

"Fucking beautiful voice you have." Oakley surprised her by saying.

She didn't know what to say. Smiling, she replied, "Yours is very different. Not in a bitchy way, but your voice is like... cool."

Oakley laughed. "There's a compliment hidden in there somewhere."

Santana smiled. She felt a little sad that she had to catch up with the others for dinner on Mr Schue. But she told herself Oakley was going to sing again with her tomorrow and that cheered her up slightly.

The first two days hadn't been as torturous as she thought they would be. Granted, she'd found someone who actually didn't know her past and who or what she was, but she still hadn't expected her time at the English school to be as easy as it had been so far. She preferred it there than at the hotel with the others. When she was there, it took all her strength to keep her eyes away from Brittany and it was starting to wear her out. Oakley provided a break from that.

"Go have fun tonight." She said, smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Santana smiled back at her, and left the auditorium to the sounds of Oakley tinkling away.

They were all waiting for the minibus outside, the sun making a rare appearance.

"Where have you been?" Kurt asked, as she stood next to him.

"Spying on our competition."

"Oh, so much team spirit, Santana."

"Team is not a word I am associated with and neither is spirit."

"But you were on the Cheerio's?" Brittany chipped in.

Santana glared at her. "Precisely. And I do not wish to remember the days I was in the Cheerio's."

"Why?"

Santana glared ever harder. "Because I don't have spirit."

Brittany frowned. "Yes, you do."

Santana ignored her. She didn't want to speak to her. She didn't want to speak to anyone. She just wanted to curl up in her bed and never come out again. Unless it was to sing.

"She's right, you know." Max told her as they sat down at the back of the minibus together.

Santana snorted.

"The word spirit is engraved on your forehead." He blushed at what he'd just said. "Maybe not in a team, but definitely within yourself."

She turned to look at him. "Did I give you a pass to say such things to me, or are you just ignoring my 'beware-of-the-dog' signs and saying them anyway?"

He blushed again. "I thought the sign said 'welcome'."

She softened slightly. "Maybe to some people."

She heard Max chuckle to himself and they were silent for the rest of the journey.

Once at the restaurant, Santana couldn't help but notice that Brittany's face was red and her fingers raw. She knew that the blonde twisted and pulled at them when she was anxious about something and the Latina wanted to know why. Why now?

When they sat down, Brittany didn't even make a conscious effort to sit near Artie or Tina. Instead, she propped herself at the end and took out her cell phone.

Santana sighed. One day, she was going to rip that fucking thing off her; it was the reason for the mess they were in right now.

She took out her own cell phone and scrolled down to find the number she was looking for. She hated to do it, but she really had no choice. She couldn't think of anything else to do.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 – please stop hurting her

**UP.**

That's all it said. That's all she had put. 'UP'. Brittany couldn't work it out. What did it mean?

She looked up and met the brunette's eyes. Santana smiled ever so slightly and then looked back to Max to continue their chat.

Brittany smirked inside. She was such a bitch, making her look up like that. Out of everybody around the table, the one person who couldn't even look her in the eye – who hated her whole being – had noticed her anxiety and had tried to do something about it. Brittany understood that the text was a big thing for the brunette and even though it frustrated her that she couldn't simply talk to her, she respected that it would take some time and this was the first tiny baby step. At least she hoped it was.

Santana didn't look at her for the rest of the evening but Brittany's anxiety gradually ceased. Along with the constant flow of texts from Nick, and the steady hum of evening conversation, she was able to relax and feel as much at home as she could.

When they got back to the hotel, and the other girls were asleep in their beds, Brittany left the discomfort of her bed and retrieved Santana's yellow cotton cardigan from the bathroom door. She snuck it back to her bed and as she lay there inhaling the beautiful smell of tropical coconut, she thought about her day with Josh.

He was a jerk. He thought it'd be cool if he told Brittany all of the times he had gone out 'clubbing' and got incredibly "mashed" and how he had drunk too much at a festival one day and not been able to remember any of the bands. Brittany hadn't found him impressive. In fact, she thought he was a total douche and where was Nick when you needed him? Nick hadn't told her all the times he'd got too drunk and cracked his head open on the stairs, falling down them. He'd told her that feelings sucked and that fear was a mask hiding all the real emotions of love and what we actually feel. He'd told her she was beautiful and didn't deserve to feel scared and in fear of judgement. He'd also told her that whatever was happening in her life couldn't be as bad as the kids in Africa and she thought of their little faces in their little duck pyjamas and she couldn't bring herself to feel scared again.

But the fear kept creeping back. Every time she saw Santana's face. Not because she was afraid of what the girl thought of her (though she was) but more so that she was terrified of people like Josh and the power they had over girls like Santana. She felt uncomfortable around him and the amount of times that she had defended such girls today was off the scale. By the last time, she hadn't known what to do and had felt so angry that she just snapped at him and had stormed off to wait for the minibus. She had got herself in such a state, and really for no reason. That's why it was so lovely to hear from Nick – someone who actually cared about her.

But she knew that she was still pulling at her fingers and that they were growing redder and redder by the second. Nick could send as many sweet and gorgeous texts as he liked and Artie could tell her as many funny jokes as he could, but neither could stop the undercover anxiety that was still very much present in heart.

Apart from Santana, of course. One text and she was cured.

She breathed in the smell again and wondered why it brought her so much comfort. Not even her home smell could do that. There was something so heavenly in Santana's natural scent and even if the girl had just run a marathon and was sweating head to toe, or if she'd just fallen into a pile of duck poo and had tried showering several times to rid the stench, she would still smell just as beautiful. Because that was Santana and that was who Brittany loved.

She did love her. She loved her with all her heart and if only the Latina could see that. If only she could look into her eyes more than she ever did these days and see the love that poured so willingly and overwhelmingly from Brittany's eyes. There was nothing she wouldn't do just to see the girl look into her eyes for longer than two seconds. Nothing.

If Santana were to look in her eyes long enough to see her love, then Brittany could forgive the voice inside of her that screamed and screamed, "stop hurting her. Please stop hurting her."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 – if you look at me, I will fall and never get back up again

"Hey, super voice." Oakley greeted, leaning playfully on the piano.

Santana smiled a 'hello'.

"Any new ideas spring to that interesting head last night?" The braided blonde asked, resting her head on her arms.

Santana shook her head and looked apologetically at the English girl.

"Do you want to play today?"

Santana looked sharply up and noticed the girl pointing to the piano. "Why not?"

She sat down whilst Oakley kneeled beside her and wrote down, with marker pen, the notes on the piano.

"Are you allowed to do this?" Santana queried.

"Oh please, Childs loves me, he'd let me get away with murder." She continued to mark the keys and when she was done, she smiled proudly at Santana. "Middle C?"

Santana smiled at the girl, noticing the way her bright blue eyes always glittered and seemed to dance at everything she ever said. They were framed with naturally long eyelashes, that were frosted with a dark layer of mascara and smoked around the edge with sky blue shadow that matched both her eyes, and her hooded blue dress.

Santana pressed lightly down the on note in the centre of the piano, without taking her gaze away from Oakley, and smiled a little.

"Congratulations." The girl remarked, removing her gaze and taking Santana's hand. "This is D, E, F, G etc, etc, etc."

"Look, I'm not a kid." Santana said, a little too defensively.

"Prove it." Oakley said playfully.

Santana liked a challenge. She took her hand away from Oakley's and repeated exactly what the girl had just told her.

"Again." The braided blonde said. "Do it again."

Santana did as she was told. Again. And again. And again.

"Do you think you know the alphabet yet?" Oakley joked, standing up from where she was sat.

"The first half, yeah." Santana replied, teasingly. "I might need help with the second part, though. That's a bit tricky."

"Nothing's tricky, Lopez."

Santana frowned.

"It's only tricky if you make it tricky." Oakley explained, picking up an acoustic guitar and striking a chord. She went on to sing the beginning of Eliza Doolittle's 'Pack Up' and Santana couldn't help but get sucked into her quirky voice.

Oakley abandoned the guitar and took Santana's hand in her own, continuing with the song acapella. She twirled around Santana's taller frame and never left her eyes, moving closer and then apart and then closer again as she sang effortlessly beautifully.

When the song was over, Oakley took both Santana's hands and said, "Don't hold anything in, super voice. Let it all out and don't let it get to you. Life is beautiful."

Santana watched her as she picked up her leather jacket from the top of the piano and carelessly shrugged it over her shoulder.

"That piano's waiting for you to play it." She said, slowly walking backwards, out of the auditorium. She bit her lip. "Don't let it down."

And with that, she promptly left the room and skipped out towards her lesson.

Santana turned towards the piano and sat down again. Placing one finger on the marked keys, she cringed at the noise it made in the deathly silent barn. It was okay when Oakley was there – she seemed to make the place noisier and take the silence away. Santana felt awkward making such noise in such a quiet place.

Instead, she focussed on singing to the notes she pressed and playing around with the sounds they made. She harmonised with them and found it somewhat satisfying making such notes.

"Fuck this shit." She sang, laughing slightly to herself. "Fuck what this has become."

The harsh words sounded funny, conflicting with the beautiful notes.

"Fuck my broken heart and fuck your stupid part... in my life?" She laughed again, removing her hands from the piano. It was pointless singing something so, well, pointless.

"I hope you find what you're looking for." She said, surprising herself at voicing her thoughts. She felt her fingers move to her lips and frowned.

"I don't know what I'm looking for." The distinctive voice whispered from behind where Santana was sat. She turned around slowly.

Brittany stood there, looking like she'd just drowned.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"Would you please stop using that word?"

"No." Santana bowed her head in shame. "I fucking wont."

Brittany winced.

Seeing as she wasn't going to say anything, Santana stood up, gathered her bag and went to leave the stage. Brittany stopped her.

"Santana."

"What, Brittany?"

"Can you please just look at me?"

"There's nothing to look at." She replied, looking anywhere but her.

"Yes there is."

"No there's fucking not."

"Santana." Brittany sighed, desperately. "Please?"

_I hate it when she uses that innocent little voice. Santana, you can't look at her and you can't go to her. She deserves this pain she is feeling. She doesn't feel nearly as bad as you do. You're broken, and she is most definitely not. Go away, Santana, and leave her._

"I'm going."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I fucking am."

"No, you're fucking not."

Santana turned around at the sudden change in Brittany's speech. Not once in all of knowing the girl had she ever heard her swear. It sounded so wrong and so... god damn hideous.

"Don't swear, Brittany."

"It got your attention."

Santana mentally slapped herself. _Dammit, girl. Don't look at her, please, just turn around and go before she says anything else._

She walked quickly up the aisle stairs and when she got to the top she heard a whimper leave Brittany's mouth. _No, Santana. Leave._

She took one last look at the crying drowned rat, and left the room before she could turn back. She left herself at that point, but she relaxed in the thought that Brittany could not possibly hate what she was doing nearly as much as Santana hated herself right at that moment.

Her heart broke even further and this time, the pain in her abdomen wasn't her liver dying, but her lungs. Her breathing worsened and even though she could see the door that led to their minibus, she knew her legs were going to buckle any second.

She was on the floor in milliseconds and just as quickly as she had fallen for Brittany, the darkness that surrounded her every day existence overwhelmed her and she was left with nothing but an unconscious, collapsed frame and a broken, barely beating heart.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 – the darkness is a comfort

She had heard the fall even before it had happened.

She couldn't quite register her long, slender legs as they pounded up the stairs of the auditorium. They were running faster than they'd ever run, but at the same time, she felt like she was pulling them through thick mud.

"Santana!"

When she finally reached the body, her head went all faint and all she could see was black dots and sparkling stars and the rapidly growing feeling of panic.

"Baby," She said, breathlessly, falling to the brunette's side. "Wake up."

She ran her fingers through the locks of the girl's hair and cupped her dormant cheek in her palm. She heard the faint tap of running footsteps and when she looked up, the braided blonde was running towards her.

"How come you're here?" Brittany couldn't help but ask.

The girl seemed unfazed. "The piano room is just around the corner." She bent down with Brittany. "What happened?"

"I don't know, she just left the barn, and I heard a thump and then...this." Brittany's breathing began to shake and she had to tell herself to calm down.

"We need help." The braided girl said, looking around. "The nurse isn't too far. I'll go and get her. Wait here and don't move her."

Brittany did as she was told and watched as the other girl ran down the old arched corridor, into the distance. She felt a strange sense of loss when the girl's presence was no more but shook it off when she took another look at the Latina lying limp on the cold stone floor.

"Santana, sweetie, please wake up." She pleaded. "Come on."

It was odd waking up to an angel. Being aware of their long golden locks gently tickling the surface of your sleepy skin and letting yourself melt into their warm, caring arms as they held you next to their heart are things not everybody experiences.

Angel's smelt nice, too. They had a golden aura that flowered in rays around the perimeter of their bodies which made them look like a miniature sun. Santana thought she hit the jackpot with just one, but when she moved her head slightly to the left, she saw another angel. This one wasn't as familiar as the first. Her hair wasn't as golden but she looked more stable – the kind of angel that held more wisdom than anyone else and the kind that had sparkling blue eyes that shone so deep inside you, you couldn't help but smile.

"Hello, Santana." She heard another voice say. "Could you just look into this light please."

Santana squinted her eyes, just wanting to focus on the sparkling blue that was glowing to the left of her. She felt a soft hand grip her right hand and she turned to look at who it was. It was the first angel – the one with the soft hair and the soft hands and the soft blue eyes.

"Santana, sweetie, look at the torch."

She looked at the torch again and squinted once more. She didn't like the torch. It was far too bright. Instead, she turned her head away and looked at the second angel. Staring at her blurry face, she felt her eyelids grow heavy until they rested and closed once more.

That's better. Away from the blinding light and back to the darkness.

She felt so heavy, she thought she would fall through the flimsiness of the bed she was lying on.

Dizzy. Her eyes rolled open and her head lulled backwards. Where was she?

"And the sleeping beauty awakes." She heard that quirky voice say. She turned towards the source and tried hard to focus on the blur sat beside her. "Hello."

Santana breathed out heavily and closed her eyes again.

"Do I not get longer than two seconds this afternoon?" The voice spoke again, moving closer to the bed. "It's just earlier you gave me about ten, so this is being a bit stingy."

Through her weariness, Santana couldn't help but smile and open her eyes again. She looked over the braided blonde and yawned.

"Yay, you showed me your teeth."

Santana laughed tiredly. "They're beautiful teeth."

"You're not wrong." Oakley looked closer. "Do you clean them after every meal or something?"

"Maybe."

Oakley laughed and rested her head in her hands. "Nice escape to Neverland?"

Santana frowned before nodding lightly.

"Meet any cute lost boys?"

"Not my thing." She said, surprising herself. _Shit. I'm dangerous when I'm tired._

"Any Wendy's then?" Oakley responded, grinning wide and her eyes dancing.

"Maybe."

"You and your 'maybe's'."

Santana shrugged heavily under the thick red covers. "Where am I?"

"Sick bay."

"What the?"

"Fuck?" Oakley laughed. "Yeah, that's how I'd describe this place."

Santana smiled. "What happened?"

"Brittany said you collapsed. She didn't know why."

Santana froze under the sheets at the mention of the dancer's name. Brittany had been there? Why had Brittany gone to her? That girl couldn't care less if Santana was completely alive or lying unconsciously dead in a nearby sewer.

"She was there?"

"Yeah." Oakley replied, tenderly.

Santana was silent. Why? She couldn't understand. Why would she go to her then, when she left her that night she collapsed the first time? She didn't come rushing to her side then.

This was the third time now. The first had been _that night_ and the second had been when she had returned home after chucking all of Brittany's clothes out. She had got into the shower and had woken up absolutely soaked, the shower's hot steam still burning her screaming skin. It took a week for the burn to go down. She'd had to tell her mother that she was practicing press ups every night and morning.

Without thinking, Santana reached out to take Oakley's hand. The girl didn't remove it but neither did she grip back. She just let the Latina hold it.

"What's the time?" She asked, closing her eyes. This was all such a mess. These collapses were supposed to happen in private.

"Ten past three. You've been out for, like, four hours."

"Shit."

"Crazy stuff, right?" Oakley smiled when Santana reopened her eyes.

The door knocked and the nurse – apparently Nurse Honour – walked in with V following quickly behind.

"Oak!" She said, smiling at the braided blonde. Santana felt it right to let go of her held hand. Oakley turned to look round at her and took back her hand.

"Hey, doll." She said, smiling up at her best friend. V kissed her hand and placed it on Oakley's cheek before dragging a chair over and sitting next to her.

"Hi, Santana."

Santana smiled.

"Feeling any better?" the tanned girl asked, the classy shirt she was wearing crinkling as she leaned over. She didn't seem to notice Oakley holding her hand. If she did, she didn't give a shit.

"A bit, thanks."

"Does that mean you'll be okay to join the rest of us tomorrow night round my house?" V asked.

"Sure." Santana replied, smiling. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Inviting me."

"Oh, honey, I'd invite the world if I could."

Santana didn't quite know what to take from that. Instead, she just smiled and leant deeper into the covers.

"Crazy drama at this old dump today, then." V joked, taking out her beeping phone.

"Yeah." Santana wearily replied.

"Who are you texting, smiley girl?" Oakley asked, her eyes glittering at V.

V didn't hesitate in telling them. "Sam."

Santana let out a long whistle. Oakley let out a light laugh. "Bitch."

Santana frowned at Oakley. "Never thought I'd hear an English girl say that."

Oakley laughed and V continued to text. "V is one, so it's okay."

V shoved her gently with her shoulder and put her phone down on Santana's bed. "Okay, I'll stop. Stopping, stopping, stopping." She clenched at her fingers before picking the cell back up. "Oh dammit, I can't!"

Santana laughed hard then, and it felt good to feel that rumble in her chest. Oakley noticed the Latina's change of mood and squeezed her hand gently. Santana smiled back at her.

"Okay, well, Sam's waiting outside to say goodbye to me, so I'm going to catch up with him." She looked around at the two. "Catch you both later."

Oakley and Santana chuckled amusingly at her before turning back to one another when the door clicked closed. Oakley stared at Santana for a long while before smiling warmly at her.

"Was piano playing that stressful for you, you felt it best to collapse?"

Santana laughed heavily. "I wasn't getting anywhere. The words I was putting with the notes didn't fit and I just don't have that, I don't know, _thing _you've got."

"Swagger?"

"You wish."

"Quirk?"

"Perhaps."

"Sex?"

Santana stole a look at the girl's eyes. Of course, they were sparkling. She raised her eyebrow and let out a whispered chuckle. "Probably."

Oakley laughed and Santana watched as she looked out of the window at the sun pouring through the stained glass. She looked pretty when the rays caught the tips of her eyelashes. It made them glisten as if they had diamonds on the end. The way her eyes were painted with aqua blue caught the sunlight in such a way, it made them look like an ocean. They sparkled too, quite magnificently so. Everywhere she looked, she decorated. There was so much spirit in her looks and the way she smiled at people, just with her eyes. So much meaning was conveyed through them and Santana wished with all her heart that she could have eyes that much alive.

When Oakley turned back round to face her, the brunette felt her face flush. She hadn't meant to be staring at her.

"We can just stick to singing tomorrow." Oakley spoke, her voice several levels softer. "I don't want to stress you out again."

Santana smiled and suddenly felt the warmth of the girl's hand in hers. "It's okay."

"Your teacher's going to take you back now. Its half past. Do you want a hand getting out of bed?"

Santana fell back into the mattress, and lifted their held hands. "Got it."

"I promise we'll just sit tomorrow, and do nothing strenuous." The braided girl said, as Santana stood up for the first time in ages. "Before V's big night. I'm sure she's just planning on impressing Sam."

"I'm sure she is."

They looked at each other for a second. "Thank you." Santana said, gratefully.

"Anytime, super voice."

Santana smiled at the girl's warmth. Besides collapsing, she'd had a content afternoon and for once she hadn't woken up to the pain of burning skin or the smell of vomit lingering over her body. Smiling lightly to herself, she allowed Oakley to take her arm and together, they walked the hundred meters to the minibus, in comfortable and easy silence.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11 – you've pushed me away and I can't deal with the pain

_Brittany had spent the whole day trying to find some plain black fluffy socks for Santana. The Latina was lying, practically dead, in Brittany's bed and all she had requested was black fluffy socks. _

"_Please, Britt, that's all I need." She had said when the blonde was pacing the room frantically._

_She hadn't meant to leave her but the girl was adamant she wanted these socks. She was growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of socks in the whole entire mall and without thinking where she was, she'd let out an exasperated scream, stopping several shoppers beside her. _

_Santana could be dying in her bed and she was in town looking for something as pathetic as black fluffy socks._

_STUPID BLACK FLUFFY SOCKS!_

_Just as she was about to give up, she saw some in the window of a tiny back shop and walked inside. They were expensive for some stupid reason, but any money was worth keeping the girl alive._

_When she had got home, she found Santana in exactly the same position but her eyes were closed shut and her breathing was shallow._

"_Sweetie," Brittany breathed, rushing to her side. "You can't die now, I've got you some black fluffy socks. Wake up, please." _

_Santana stirred and opened her eyes slowly._

"_Hey, beautiful."_

"_Oh thank god, Santana." The dancer said, resting her head on the girl's chest. "You're alive."_

"_Oh, honey, I'm just ill. It's just a fever." Santana smiled at Brittany's face. "Come here, baby. Come on." _

_Santana took Brittany's hands in her own and squeezed them. "I'd rather be in this bed with you, than any other bed in the world. Especially my own." _

_Brittany breathed a sigh of relief and took out the socks she bought. "Pass me your feet."_

"_Oh, thank you so much, beautiful." _

_Brittany placed them on the Latina's caramel feet and moved back to her head. "You're sweating."_

"_Ergh, how hot." Santana joked, falling further into Brittany's pillow. _

"_Here," Brittany retrieved a wet flannel from her bathroom and began wiping the Latina's forehead. "That better?"_

"_Much." Santana closed her eyes and they were silent for several moments. "Can I hold your hand?"_

"_Course you can, sweetie, you don't need to ask." Brittany breathed, clutching the brunette's palm in her own. _

"_Thank you, Britt."_

"_For what?"_

"_For this."_

"_I'd do it anytime, baby." _

_Santana smiled. "I know."_

"_What are you feeling?" The blonde asked, concerned._

"_Like I'm gonna boil to death one moment, then freeze to death the next." Santana smiled. "The socks will help, though." _

"_I hope so." _

"_I know so." _

_Brittany cherished the feel of the Latina's hands in her own and lowered her head to the brunette's chest. She sighed deeply and listened to the beat of Santana's heart. It was steady and calm, like the beat of a sailing ship. It echoed around her head and absorbed itself into her blood stream, steadying that. She felt herself relax again._

_Santana's free hand wound itself through Brittany's long blonde hair, stroking it rhythmically. "I love you, Britt."_

"_I love you too, San." _

Oh, duck poo, she was late. She sat up and looked around the room. The windows were open slightly, and the curtain blew in the gentle breeze. All the beds were empty – some made, Santana's strewn – and there was silence.

Brittany put her head in her hands and sighed deeply. _Had they all gone without her?_

She moved her legs so she was sat on the edge of the bed and stared out of the window. It was dusk, about seven-ish, and they were meant to be going to V's house. They had obviously all gone without her. An overwhelming sense of betrayal swept through her.

Just as she was about to fall back down, she noticed a note under her duck shaped alarm clock.

_**I promise we haven't gone, just get dressed and meet us downstairs. **_

Her heart skipped a beat at the handwriting. None of the others had even thought to tell her their whereabouts, but she had.

_Why couldn't she just have waited for me, though?_

She did as she was told and made her way downstairs to the foyer. The group were sat around the coffee tables playing cards. She noticed the way Santana looked up the moment she walked through the door, even though she was several meters away. She guessed she was regretting her words the day before.

"Hey, Brittany." Mercedes greeted, smiling up at her. In all honesty, she couldn't care less about the others, just the caramel skinned girl sat alone in the corner of the room.

"Hi."

"Good sleep?" Artie asked.

"Yes, thank you."

Still, the brunette remained silent.

"Well, seeing as we're all ready, the minibus can drop us off now." Tina exclaimed, jumping up from her seat.

Brittany followed the others, waiting for the Latina to speak to her. She walked extra slow, in the hopes that she would catch up. She didn't. When Brittany looked behind her, she was still slumped in the same seat, and hadn't moved.

"Santana?" She offered, a sad look on her face.

Santana looked up and they caught each other's eyes. Neither left each other's gaze for quite some time. It relaxed Brittany a little. Their eyes only left each other when Max called over to Santana. Brittany wanted to hurt him really badly.

On the minibus, Santana still didn't speak and Brittany found herself staring out of the window, disinterested in the other girls' conversation.

On arrival, Brittany lingered behind, for a reason she didn't know. Inside V's house, the rest of Up and Away were sat in her living room talking. Brittany followed everyone else and sat next to Tina and unfortunately Josh.

"Hey, pretty blonde girl."

She turned towards him and raised her eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Do I not get a smile today?"

"Pass me a drink and maybe you will."

Josh did as she asked, and when the distinct sharpness of the bitter alcohol cleansed her throat, she felt somewhat better and more at ease.

"There it is!" Josh exclaimed, making himself more comfortable. "Come on, talk to me about yourself."

Brittany told him about where she lived, her cats, her family and then about Nick. She didn't mention Santana. Their relationship was something that could only be shared between each other. No one else had to know.

She turned around when she felt another presence in the room. Santana felt it too and Brittany couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up when she saw the braided blonde. V followed soon after and settled down with Oakley and Santana.

It was nice to see the Latina happy for a while. She hadn't seen her eyes smile like that since the last day they had spent together. It was lovely.

She returned her attention to Josh and was able to relax more, knowing that her love was happy and content for now.

Santana loved the way Oakley's smile gave even more life to her sparkling blue eyes, if that was even possible. When the girl laughed, it brought out the glitter in her spirit and for a moment, she was terribly envious of V having such a beautiful best friend.

"Oh, V, baby, come here and talk to me instead of them!" Sam's voice could be heard from across the room. V didn't hesitate – she went right over and settled in the blonde boy's arms.

"Come with me to get the pizza ready." Oakley said to her, standing up. She followed and together, they unloaded the Italian food from the oven.

V's house had surprised Santana. It wasn't massive like she expected. In fact, it was smaller than her own and held much more people. V had five brothers and sisters and all of them had been so excited to stay at their Grandma's house that night. V didn't have a father, Oakley had told her, and so it was just their mom.

"Ah, this is my favourite." Oakley informed Santana, slicing into the Hawaiian pizza. She groaned on her first bite. "I might eat all of this myself."

"Don't leave it to me to break it to them." Santana joked, putting all the slices on a separate plate.

"I don't care. They can all kill me if they want. At least I'd die happy."

Santana chuckled before wiping her hands on the cloth by the sink.

"How are you, tonight?"

Santana turned around, surprised by the question. "Okay, I guess. You?"

Oakley looked up from where she was devouring the pizza and stared at the Latina. "I feel great."

The braided blonde had come dressed in black leather pants and a skin tight golden yellow top. Her hair had entangled in it, yellow feathers and the quiff had been styled slightly higher. All along the side of her left ear were studs, one in the shape of a bicycle, the others gold and black. Her make-up was darker and there was more black shadow around the corners of the sparkling blue eyes. Santana was sure the girl could make her eyes as black as the darkest shade, those blue eyes would still shine through. She wore no shoes, so Santana noticed her toenails were painted a funny purple colour. It prompted her to look at her fingernails and she smiled to herself at the way they were decorated. Oakley had on them, deep pink varnish, with bright green spots all over them. Everything should logically clash but it all seemed to ironically work. It harmonised in a way Santana had never seen before – like life after death, the way Oakley was and the way she represented herself was fresh and oxygenised. It felt amazing to breathe right next to her.

"We need a song to sing, tomorrow. Childs and Schue want us to perform what we've been working on." Oakley told her, taking another bite of her pizza. Santana had to look away, taken aback by how much Oakley eating was turning her on.

"I was thinking," The girl continued, "that I should play the piano," she smiled at Santana's blushing face, "and you can sing whatever song we choose."

"Sounds good."

"Sounds bloody fantastic."

Santana laughed. "But don't rely on me to make up the lyrics of whatever song you play, I sucked real bad at that yesterday."

"Okay," she giggled, putting the pizza crusts in the bin. "I'll just play the first song that comes to mind."

"Helpful."

"You'll love it."

They stared at each other before taking the plates of pizza in their hands and moving it into the living room. Both glee clubs dived in and Santana realised she wasn't hungry anymore. All she wanted to do was watch Oakley playfully eat her pizza but at the same time, she also wanted to make sure Brittany was okay. The blonde had seemed incredibly tired earlier on and Santana had felt bad.

"Here, Santana." Oakley handed her a paper cup of English cider, and she was reminded of the night the glee club had got drunk together before. Rachel Berry's house party had been nothing but a night of laughter and all Santana could remember was the image of Brittany performing a strip tease on the bar in the corner of the room.

She doubted Brittany would do that tonight.

Taking the cider from Oakley's hands she mouthed a thank you and let the alcohol pour down her needy throat. It wasn't as strong as what she usually drunk but it would do for tonight.

Later on in the evening, V was straddling Sam in the far corner, making out like there was no tomorrow, Artie, his partner Lou, Tina, Mercedes and her partner, Emily were dancing to the loud, heavy beat music in the centre of the room, Lauren's partner Tom and his girlfriend, Cassie, were talking privately in another corner, and Tia, Kurt, Fergus, Lauren and Mike were making fun of each other's dance moves. Josh and Brittany hadn't moved from their seats and when Santana turned round to where Oakley was cross legged on the armchair, she noticed her staring at Max and the dark kid, Jack. She leant in to Oakley's face.

"This cider sucks balls compared to vodka." She said, as Oakley turned around.

Oakley giggled, influenced only slightly by the cider. "Are you okay?"

Santana nodded, just as the song 'Bootylicious' came on. "Oo, come dance with me."

When they reached the mass of moving bodies, Oakley reached out to grab Santana's hand and swung her around carelessly, singing to the words. She took Santana's waist and pulled her closer, the essence of fun swirling around her.

Santana found it somewhat hard to concentrate on dancing well when Oakley's hand was touching her. But the braided blonde's singing helped relax her and the Latina joined in, swinging her alcohol influenced arms high in the air. She let her loose black hair fall across her face and every time both girls' bodies collided, her happiness would float higher and her body would move accordingly.

Oakley could move really well. Santana could tell she wasn't a trained dancer like Brittany, but she definitely had rhythm and that _thing _she couldn't quite put her finger on. She wasn't afraid of people watching her, and that wasn't because she was drunk – she wasn't – it was because she was just having innocent fun.

Their bodies did seem to fit together, but in a way that was unusual to Santana. She wasn't use to dancing this intimately with another girl. Guys, yeah, sure, and Brittany – she would always dance like this with her. But with another girl? It was odd. Nice, but odd.

Oakley occasionally shot Santana a playful look with her dancing eyes and would pull Santana in closer to her, so the brunette could smell the vanilla scents that leaked from the girl's body. It was no strawberries and cream, but right now, it smelt everything and more to Santana.

She took another sip from her cider and downed the last bit all in one go, tipping her head back as far as she could. She was having fun flirting with Oakley. She suddenly became really aware of the way her striped black and white top felt on her caramel skin along with the pressure of Oakley's hands.

She finished the song with a loud power note, of which the whole room applauded. Santana gave a little bow. Then she went and flopped herself down, her head spinning. She saw someone else's drink on the side next to her and downed that one as well. Pushing her head back, she closed her eyes and smiled to the beat of the next song.

When she opened her eyes, Brittany was staring right at her.

"Brittany?" She exclaimed, sitting up and turning around.

"Hey, San."

"I need another drink." She said quickly, escaping the living room.

"No, you don't." The blonde said, following.

In the kitchen, Brittany touched Santana's arm as she poured another drink for herself.

"Don't touch me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Santana spluttered, turning to look at the dancer. "Why?" She snorted, filling up her drink again and taking a large gulp.

"Santana, stop this. I miss you."

"You can't say that." She felt herself getting angrier.

"But it's true."

"Then freaking prove it."

"I don't know what you want me to do."

The girl couldn't be serious, could she? Santana looked at her, disbelief written all over her face.

"Leave the freaking douche bag on the end of your phone, tell him you love someone else and come back to me."

Brittany dropped her head, shamefully. "I can't."

"Why not, Brittany?" She took another gulp.

"Because I'll hurt him, that wouldn't be right."

Santana let herself breathe for a second before muttering, "What I thought." And then promptly left the room, drink in hand.

She _was_ going to have a good night, even if Brittany refused to let her.

Sitting down, she felt Oakley move beside her and place her hand on Santana's bare thigh. It was a friendly gesture but the sick feeling returned and all of a sudden she felt she was going to cry.

_Fucking alcohol_.

She had to stand up then and as she did, her body racked, and she felt the water in her eyes. Before it got even worse, she stumbled out of the room, the tears coming in broken waves, shoving her heart one way, and then the other.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 – she's stealing my breath when you're around

"Be glad, quiff head, I only got up this morning for you."

"Nice to see you too, super voice."

Santana walked into the piano room and slammed her bag down on the side corner. Without saying hello, she dragged out a chair and plonked herself down in it, next to Oakley who was already sat behind the piano.

There was silence whilst Santana tried to muster her feelings in a controlled manner and get her bad mood over and done with. Easier said than done, when her head felt like it was going to fall off and her eyes water to the point of filling a swimming pool. Keeping the tears at bay, Santana thought, was like trying to contain water in a room full of small holes and broken doors. Freaking impossible.

_Weak_, she thought. _That's what you are. Weak._

Oakley mirrored Santana's silence and the Latina respected that.

Finally, she said, "Right, I'm sorry, we can start."

Oakley turned to look at her, concern, yet amusement written in her sparkling blue eyes. The blonde bit her thumb. "I'm not sure we can."

Santana frowned.

"I feel..." Oakley began explaining, not taking her eyes away from Santana's. "Incomplete."

"Sorry?"

"There's something missing and I'm not sure I can start playing unless it's here."

"Well, what is it?"

"I'm not sure."

Santana frowned further. All she wanted to do was listen to Oakley play and sing but the girl was making that very hard for her. She wasn't in the mood with this massive headache and stupid teary eyes.

Oakley played a chord on the piano and smiled playfully. Santana cocked her head. Oakley played another chord and smiled again.

_What was she up to?_

Another chord flew out from the lips of the piano and Oakley bit her lip.

"...you're never fully dressed without a..." She sang slowly and quietly.

Santana crinkled her brow. "Smile?"

Oakley smiled cheerfully and Santana copied her.

"Yes, there it is." The braided blonde said, excitedly. "We may begin."

Santana felt the constant need to frown at whatever the girl said. She was the most random person the brunette had ever come across and she didn't want to miss any part of the day away from it.

"And don't frown. Knitted brows really don't suit you." Oakley said, grinning up at her. "Smiling is much better."

"Okay, whatever you say Captain Smile."

Oakley looked up from the piano keys and frowned herself.

"Oh, don't frown, Oakley. Knitted brows really don't suit you."

Oakley laughed hard and by the end of the day, Santana's mood had completely vanished and she'd totally forgotten what had put her in it in the first place.

xxxx

Brittany hadn't forgotten.

She knew exactly why Santana had huffed into Brian Higgins Secondary that morning. She knew exactly why the brunette had woken up with a heart full of bitterness and disgust. She knew _exactly _why the girl had gone to bed wanting to cut ever single person who crossed her path and simply looked at her.

She knew. And she knew she could have stopped it.

"_Santana, will you please stop this." Brittany said, tenderly, walking up to where the Latina was stood in the rain, crying._

_Santana was silent and all the blonde could hear were the wails that had been hidden for so long, finally entering the depths of this dark world. She inched closer, so close that if she nudged her hand slightly to the right, their pinkies would touch. _

"_I'm so fucking angry, Brittany." She said, her hands crushing into her crying eyes. _

"_I know." Brittany replied, looking down at the dark floor, pounded by the weight of the hammering rain. It was so loud. _

_Santana continued to rub her eyes violently, screaming into the crash of the downpour. Brittany looked behind her and found comfort in the fact no one was paying any attention to them. She turned back around._

"_Santana, stop rubbing your eyes." _

_The Latina didn't listen. _

"_Santana?" _

_Brittany moved forward and took both the brunette's wrists in her palms and removed them from where they were doing damage. Santana didn't fight. She just looked up at Brittany and for the first time in months, the blonde felt Santana's gaze shoot straight through the angry glaze and into her core. She had never seen the girl look so vulnerably angry before. _

"_I'm drunk." The brunette stated, before her lip began wobbling once more and another wail escaped her pouting lips. _

"_Yes, honey, you are." _

_Santana's shoulders stared to shake and she bent her head down. Brittany, still holding onto her wrists, pulled the girl closer to her and wrapped her arms tightly around the shivering wreck. _

"_I'm sorry I'm doing this to you, sweetie." She said, mumbling into the girl's hair. "I'm so sorry."_

_Santana continued to shake but didn't make any effort in returning the embrace. This simultaneously broke Brittany's heart and stung her core to a level she had never felt before. To see her best friend so broken and vulnerable... she had never hated herself so much in her whole life. _

_She thought about calling Nick and telling him that she couldn't be with him anymore, she had to be with the one who needed her, but the remembrance of _that _night forced itself to the front of her mind and she too began to shake, not in anger and defeat but in fear and absolute panic. _

_When Oakley had eventually come out to see where Santana had got to, Brittany shot her a look that had terror running right through it. She saw Oakley's confusion and before the girl could say anything, she asked her to call their minibus._

_The vehicle arrived not long after and after everyone had piled in, Brittany turned to Oakley and thanked her. She was an odd girl. She came across as fun and upbeat but Brittany felt she knew what Santana was going through and that scared her somewhat. She was terrified of what the braided blonde offered her best friend and even though she knew she was thinking selfishly, she couldn't help but take Santana in her arms and let her rest there the whole journey back. _

_When they returned to their room, however, Santana was starting to sober up and Brittany knew her time was running out. The snappy brunette would freak if she knew she was letting her this close. _

"_Baby, you need to take your clothes off." She suggested, keeping her voice low and calm. _

_Santana moved to the bathroom with Brittany and did as she was told but when she got to removing her bra, she paused and stared at the blonde._

"_I can't take this off with you in here."_

"_Why?" Brittany asked. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."_

"_Because you would be behaving unfaithful to your douche bag." _

_Brittany lowered her gaze and felt guilt creep all over her. "You're my best friend. Best friends are allowed to do this."_

"_No, Brittany." Santana slurred slightly. "You're not my best friend anymore."_

_And there it was. Everything the blonde feared had unwillingly just come true in such a blunt fashion – typical of Santana. _

_The Latina turned her back to the blonde and removed her bra. Brittany found it incredibly hard not to just stare at the girl's perfect back. Her shoulder blades were defined in the perfect places and her lower back shone slightly in the dim bathroom light. Had Brittany been less sober than she'd liked, and had she not got some boyfriend back in Ohio, her hands would have moved over to the brunette's waist and pulled her in close to nuzzle on her neck. There was a certain place that Santana was more sensitive and likewise, the Latina knew the blonde's sensitive area on her pale neck and the way it made Brittany groan and gasp her name and a thousand 'I love you's' all in one, beautiful flowing sentence. It made Brittany feel quite sick at the idea that only Santana knew her sensitive parts and no one else would ever discover them the way they had, together. _

_The first time they had made love had sent Brittany to some heaven she had never been and back again. Santana's touch was softer than anything she could ever remember feeling and the way the Latina had cupped her cheek in her palm just to ask how she was and if she was doing it okay had sent countless shivers down her skinny spine. _

_Santana's touch that night had been electric. Never had Brittany felt such fire running through her veins when Santana caressed the surface of her skin, and her lips... Brittany could only fathom how gentle they were on her own and the way the brunette treated her like she was china, but silk, all at the same time was so intimate and incredibly beautiful. It wasn't often the Latina would be moving but that night had definitely been one of the few times. _

_Brittany remembered the tickle of the brunette's hair on her cheeks as they shared a deep gaze that spoke millions of words of love, happiness and beauty. Brittany had wanted to stretch out her arms and catch them all, so she could read them one by one when Santana was without her. _

_She also remembered the feel of the brunette's abdomen as it pressed gently, yet firmly, on her own and the way it made her feel so relaxed and so... safe. _

_She didn't feel safe anymore. Nick somehow sufficed what Santana had aced at but it just wasn't the same. More than anything, she craved that pressure of Santana's body on her own but it just couldn't happen. Not when there was so much panic and terror surrounding her. She wasn't herself at the moment, and she knew that, the glee club knew it and more importantly, Santana knew it. _

"_Brittany, I mean it, get out." Santana's sharp voice broke her back into reality. _

_Brittany's eyes began focussing again and her gaze fell on Santana's topless back, everything removed besides her knickers. She panicked for a second, truly believing she'd actually touched the girl but seeing how far she was stood back, she calmed a little and was able to process what Santana was saying. _

"_San, please, I'm sorry, I-"_

"_Brittany!" Santana said, exasperated and tired from the alcohol. "Stop torturing yourself. Because it's only hurting me more."_

_Brittany stepped back, flabbergasted at the girl's statement. "I never wanted that."_

"_Yeah, well you never wanted anything." _

_The Latina's words stung in the blonde's heart and tears sprung to her eyes._

"_You know that's not true."_

"_Then as I said earlier, fucking prove it."_

"_Santana." That language was really starting to affect Brittany._

"_Stop scolding me, Brittany. Please can you just leave the room so I don't have the eyes of the person I want staring at me while I change?"_

_Brittany couldn't argue with that. For some reason, the brunette's use of the words "I want" had calmed her and even though it hurt to see Santana behave so wrongly from reaction, she released the stare of her eyes and left the room, silently clicking the door shut._

_Santana didn't get into bed for another ten minutes. Brittany lay there not knowing what to do. Before the Latina climbed into her bed, she walked over to the blonde's and dropped her yellow cardigan on Brittany's pillow. She said nothing as she returned to her own bed, falling asleep from the drain of the alcohol._

How had she known?

_Brittany retrieved the cardigan and brought it close to her face. Sleep could finally endure. _


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13 – let me be the one to make it alright

The first duet Santana and Oakley had done ended up being selected the winner by the two groups which awarded them a meal for two at TGI Fridays. The Latina had been pleasantly surprised at their victory, considering the two of them hadn't even selected a song five minutes before they were meant to perform. Luckily, Oakley began playing a song that Santana knew and she had been okay with making something interesting out of it whilst on stage. She had later killed Oakley, slightly, for making her nerves practically overflow her body but the girl had simply laughed and said, "that's what makes a performance great - the unknown and the make believe."

Santana met Oakley outside the restaurant, having walked there from her hotel. On first glance, the girl looked like she was wearing a peacock fancy dress costume, but as she neared, Santana could see that it was actually the clever put together of a mash-up of different browns and royal blue material. It awed Santana that the girl could be so out there, and so disinterested in the way fashion really was going.

"Hey, super voice." Oakley said, clutching her royal blue bag to her abdomen with both hands.

Santana found it impeccably hard not to faint at the sight of her. She knew Oakley had not meant her friendly greeting to be somewhat flirtatious, but Santana being attracted to the likes of this girl couldn't help but waver at her...beauty?

She had her long braided hair styled to the side, over her right shoulder, peacock feathers and blue ribbon entangled within it, and the quiff, if possible, was styled even higher than the last time. Santana thought she must have used tonnes of hairspray to keep it in place.

Feeling slightly undermined, Santana looked down at her own outfit. She'd simply slipped on a short, slightly baggy, dark grey dress with tan leather ankle boots and a long rosary bead necklace. Her hair had merely been brushed and Mercedes had eventually persuaded her to straighten it a little.

Despite her taller frame over Oakley, she couldn't help but feel incredibly small. It wasn't an intimidating feeling though – more that she felt Oakley's presence so deeply beside her, as they walked inside the restaurant.

It hadn't meant to be a date but whatever this what, it definitely felt like one. Santana realised she was quite nervous but she reasoned that it was because she hardly knew the girl.

After they had ordered, Oakley turned to Santana and smiled that sweet, generous grin.

"And this is why you should never plan art."

Santana frowned but then smiled at the girl's statement.

"All I will say is thank god you chose a song I knew." Santana laughed nervously. _Why was she so nervous?_

"Yeah, well next time, I won't be so kind." Oakley bit her tongue.

"Well next time, you won't be doing the choosing, I will." Santana smirked. "And then you'll have to start playing in the hopes you know the melody."

Oakley paused and stared at the brunette intently. "Fine. Well, you'll have to start on the right note."

"Easy."

They sat in silence for a while before the waitress came and ordered their food. They handed her the menus and turned back to face one another.

"So you like waffles and bacon?" Oakley asked, surprised at the Latina's order.

"I'm American. What did you expect?" Santana grinned lightly.

"This is England, we always expect."

"Assume, you mean?"

"No. We don't assume. Only you do."

"They're the same thing."

Oakley paused before retaliating. "Expecting is anticipating, assuming is wanting."

"So why does England always expect?"

"Because this country is a depressed sod, full of people anticipating the decline of our society and culture." Oakley stopped to sigh. "We don't want a decline, therefore we don't assume it."

"But people assume it's going to happen, so therefore you do."

Oakley looked thoughtful. "Maybe people want it, because then they have an excuse for their dire moods. Hence the depressing feeling you get when you enter this country." She paused again. "But we don't assume that we're all going to come out happier than we were before, even though we want to. Everything will be different and everything will have changed."

"You're a walking contradiction, quiff head." Santana commented, laughing lightly.

"If only you knew." The girl replied, a sparkle in her blue eyes.

There was an easy silence before Oakley asked Santana about school and her home.

Santana didn't know what say, if at all she should say anything, so monosyllabic answers were all the braided blonde was going to get.

"You hated cheerleading?"

"No."

"But you gave it up anyway?"

"For singing."

"Why give up something you love?"

"Because..." Santana looked around her for answers. "Because sometimes you have to."

"You're wrong, waffle kid."

Santana looked up, a frown knotted over her forehead. "What?"

"You never have to give up anything, if you don't want to." Oakley's eyes widened. "If you love something, so much so that you'll make sacrifices for it, it should never be given up on. Never."

"What if _it's _given up on you?" Santana wondered, her voice shaking.

"Like I said, don't give up." Oakley moved closer to the brunette. "When something gives up on you, you give up on them, right? But that's the worst thing you can do. When something pushes you away, it's when it needs you the most. I'm pretty sure the Cheerio's need you more than ever, seeing as they keep on losing things."

Santana laughed lowly, her thoughts being defused by the beautiful aroma of batter and bacon.

"Finally."

They ate in easy conversation, mostly about what life at a private school was like, and how much it limited you, yet at the same time provided opportunities found nowhere else.

At the end of the evening, they walked back to the hotel where Oakley was being picked up.

"I had a nice time, Santana." Oakley said, truthfully.

"So did I." She replied, smiling at the girl.

A blue car pulled up in front of them both and Oakley turned to the Latina. "I'll see you tomorrow in the piano room." She said, moving towards her.

"Okay," Santana replied, finding comfort in the girl's warm embrace.

In the driver's seat, she saw V, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music that was blaring out of the speakers. Santana sighed at the knowledge Oakley had someone so protective of her. She missed that more than anything.

Waving at the car, she turned back around and head upstairs to the girl's room. Before knocking on the door, her cell beeped.

**So, super voice, how do you feel about writing a song about waffles and bacon? I think I have the perfect melody. **

She laughed and pressed the reply button.

**Well, quiffie, waffles and bacon sounds perfect. But let me write the melody.**

Santana opened the door to a room full of sleeping bodies. She carefully undressed and slipped into her sweatpants and baggy t-shirt before brushing her teeth and climbing into bed. Her cell beeped again.

**Did you learn the alphabet yet?**

She laughed quietly in her bed and replied quickly back.

**I'm working on it.**

She placed her cell on her bedside table and snuggled into the sheets. She couldn't remember feeling so content for quite some time.

xxxx

She could hear the giggle. The little, stifled laughs that were echoing around the girl's sheets.

_This is how she must feel every time I even open my cell._

Bringing the yellow cardigan closer to her nose, she breathed in the tropical coconut aroma and felt a lonely, salty tear slide down the delicacy of her pale, flawless skin.

_Duck poo._


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14 – I'll tell them we just grew apart.

"_Brittany, I can't talk to you, because every time I do, it hurts even more."_

_The Latina had learnt to be more fluent when it came to the blonde. She needed to know how she felt._

"_But, Santana, I hate not having you in my life."_

"_You see me every day, isn't that enough?"_

_She hadn't meant Brittany to answer it but she did anyway._

"_No."_

"_Then freaking do something about it instead of hurting me all the time." Santana looked up from where she was packing her bag for the day. "Because every single time you turn to look at me and open you stupid lips to say something, something dies inside me and it hurts, Brittany. It hurts. It's so much better if you don't make the effort so I can just move on with my life and get over you. I can't be friends with you, Brittany, I just can't. I get a little closer to you, then I remember you have a douche bag to go fuck, and I feel so used and so worthless and I don't want that every day of my life. I can't have that. To live my life knowing you and knowing you doing stuff with anyone else than me just... It just gets to me, Brittany, and it sucks. No way. No me gusta."_

"_Would you please stop calling Nick that?"_

"_See!" Santana yelled, zipping up her bag so fast, a fire could have started. "I just tell you everything _I'm _feeling and all you pick out is the fact I called your fucking boyfriend a douche bag!" _

_She stormed out of the room towards the minibus and didn't speak until she got to Brian Higgins Secondary. Then she saw Oakley and something inside her altered._

"Hey, super voice."

Her greeting was so soothing. "Hi."

"Go for it."

"Go for what?" Santana asked, confused.

"Whatever song you want to sing." Oakley blushed slightly, the sparkle still present in her eyes.

Santana opened her mouth and mumbled something about waffles and bacon. Oakley giggled.

"Louder."

Santana raised her voice only very slightly.

"Oh, come on, big lips, open that mouth of yours so I can listen."

Oakley laughed playfully, and Santana did as she was told.

"Get me some more waffles and bacon because they taste better than life right now." She sang, her voice wavering up and down from her sarcastic giggles.

Oakley laughed hard with her before their voices lowered and silence fell.

"Does life not taste too good, then?" Oakley asked, biting her finger.

Santana's eyes began to water and she started blinking furiously to rid them. She didn't want Oakley to see her break, at least not when she was incredibly sober.

"Follow me" The braided blonde surprised her by saying, taking her hand and leading her out the piano room.

They ran towards The Barn and Oakley pushed the heavy door open with force. They entered the spacial, empty auditorium and jogged down the stairs towards the stage. Once there, Oakley turned Santana to face the audience and held her shoulders.

Santana's heart started beating rapidly, despite the room being empty, and though there was no other person but herself and Oakley in there, the silence was deafening.

"Silence can sometimes be too loud and therefore, when we are faced with it, it's best to out sing it." Oakley said, still gripping Santana's shoulders from behind.

The brunette was heavily aware of the sound of their breathing. She felt Oakley's hold loosen and her breathe sucked in.

"Sing what you feel." She said, walking towards the back of the stage. "I'm not here, she's not here, no one is here. Just sing whatever you want and let it out. You have all the time in the world."

Santana hadn't got much experience singing acapella. She could pick a note easy and sing from there but to continue through the whole song without the support of someone else or an instrument, was something she had never done. It scared her slightly.

Opening her mouth, she remembered a song she heard off Kelly Clarkson's latest album. She sung the first note. The first line. The first verse.

"_If anyone asks, _

_I'll tell them we both just moved on._

_When people all stare,_

_I pretend that I don't hear them talk._

_Whenever I see you, I swallow my pride_

_And bit my tongue._

_Pretend I'm okay with it all,_

_Act like there's nothing wrong._

"_Is it over yet?_

_Can I open my eyes?_

_Is this as hard as it gets?_

_Is this what it really feels like to cry?_

Tears sprung in her eyes and she wasn't sure she was going to keep it together.

"_If anyone asks, _

_I'll tell them we just grew apart._

_And what do I care, _

_If they believe me or not?_

_Whenever I feel your memory is breaking my heart,_

_I pretend I'm okay with it all,_

_Act like there's nothing wrong._

"_Is it over yet?_

_Can I open my eyes?_

_Is this as hard as it gets?_

_Is this what it really feels like to cry?_

She knew this was helping, it really was, but the tears were falling now, down the side of her face. Her voice began shaking and suddenly she felt so desperate, it hurt. She closed her eyes in fear of the darkness and clutched her abdomen with her clenched hands.

"_I'm talking in circles,_

_I'm lying, I know it,_

_Why won't things just start going away?_

"_Is it over yet?_

_Can I open my eyes?_

_Is this as hard as it gets?_

_Is this what it really feels like to cry?"_

Her voice shook desperately on the last note and before she could stop herself, she felt her body racking and her shoulders hunch over. The darkness of the empty room was overpowering, yet comforting and the silence had been silenced. Finally.

Another rack of her body and she felt the movement of someone behind her. She felt she was going to faint.

xxxx

Not at any other part of her life had Oakley witnessed such vulnerability. As she stood at the back of the stage, she noticed the way the brunette's black jeans and crinkled black cardigan reflected everything she was feeling and more than anything, she felt the biggest desire to help her.

It was true, the words Santana were singing affected her as well, but at no point in her life had she ever seen someone so broken and so defeated before.

Even more broken and even more defeated than her.

xxxx

Santana felt the touch before it had even reached her shoulder.

Turning around, she focussed on the sadness etched around the beautiful girl's face. The girl took her by her hand, and led her to a seat just off the stage.

Her breathing was rapid, yet melodic. She was terribly out of breath and faint. Oakley cupped the Latina's cheek in her palm.

"If you listen," she said, staring straight into Santana's eyes, "there is music in the rhythm of each breath we take."

Santana let out a slow breath and began breathing measurably, still holding on to the tune within it. Through the darkness, she could only just about make out Oakley's sparkling eyes but she could tell they were solely focussed on her.

They stared at each other's hazed eyes in beautiful silence, purely listening to the sound of their breathing harmonising with one another. Santana's breathing finally calmed to as relaxed as it could be, what with Oakley's face inches from her own.

She felt Oakley's breath breeze onto her lips before the girl whispered,

"I have the weirdest urge to kiss you right now."

Despite everything, Santana let out a contained laugh at Oakley's bluntness and took her chin in the tips of her fingers. She pulled the girl closer until their lips were millimetres apart in the darkness. The braided blonde's palm was still shaped around the Latina's cheek, making Santana's face burn with desire and without a moment's more hesitation, she whispered a quick, "okay," and closed the gap in between their parched lips.

She hadn't expected Oakley's lips to be so soft and so...fragile.

Their silhouettes glowed gently behind them on the stage curtain and in the darkness and in the silence, just the touch of Santana's lips on someone so accepting and so empathetic made part of the pain inside her wretched heart disappear.

Only when she pulled away and remained fairly close to the girl's lips did Santana think of Brittany. The smallest wave of guilt overcame her but it quickly vanished when she saw the sparkle in Oakley's eyes.

"That was...different." The girl said, smiling in the haze.

All Santana could manage was a smile. There was another silence and Oakley shifted slightly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen, I was just being selfish, telling you I wanted to kiss you." She went to move her palm, but Santana held onto it. She didn't know why, but she had enjoyed the kiss and she didn't want the moment to be broken in an impulse of guilt and regret.

"Oakley," she finally whispered, "its okay. I wanted to kiss you too."

There was a pause whilst Oakley mustered the confidence to speak. "You did?"

"Sure."

Santana leaned in to Oakley's touch and breathed out. Oakley didn't move, the Latina suspected in minor fear and confusion. She remembered that feeling all too well.

"I didn't think I'd ever want to do that." The braided blonde admitted, her eyes not moving from Santana's.

There was a slight hesitation on the brunette's part before she said, "Ditto."

"No, I mean with a girl." Oakley looked down, embarrassed. "I didn't think I was, you know...gay."

"Just because you've kissed one girl doesn't mean you're gay. Everybody has urges." Santana comforted, her voice returning back to normal. "Anyway, how did you know that I am?"

Oakley looked up, shocked. "Oh please, your love for Brittany is written all over your face."

Santana snorted. "What?"

"I can spot love just as much as the next person." Oakley sighed, moving her thumb on Santana's cheek. The Latina was still holding on to it. "You're not as great an actress as you think."

Santana stared into Oakley's eyes. Part of her was tremendously angry for being bared like that but another part of her – a stronger side – felt incredibly relieved that someone finally recognised her pain. She saw Oakley react to her glare.

"I'm sorry, it's completely not my place to tell you that, I can't believe I even opened my stupid mouth, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Oakley, stop freaking out." She said, taking both the girl's hands in her own and holding them close to her chest. She couldn't help but giggle lightly. "Stop it."

Oakley closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. "Fuck."

Santana laughed. She wasn't used to the other person swearing. It felt kind of good.

Oakley sucked in her breath, paused to look back at Santana, before asking, hesitantly, "Can I kiss you again?"

Santana felt the corners of her mouth move slightly before she felt her head nod gently. Oakley released the breath she was holding in, and moved closer to the brunette.

The second kiss was longer, and not as impulsive. The touch lingered more on her Santana's lips and it was all she could do not to grab the girl's head and bring her deeper.

It felt exhilarating kissing Oakley in such a fashion.

"Okay," Oakley started, pulling herself away from Santana's irresistible lips, "this is completely not what I ever expected to happen today."

Santana couldn't help but laugh very gently. "You expected something?"

"Hey, big lips, don't twist my words here." Oakley joked, looking down then back up again. "I just expected us to carry on singing, like normal."

"You British, always expect things."

Oakley laughed breathily.

"Did you assume this would happen?" Santana asked, remembering their past conversation.

She saw how Oakley's eyes sparkled. "At some point, maybe."

Santana hummed in confirmation and looked down at their intertwined hands. Not as complex as her lock with Brittany, but nonetheless, entangled to some extent.

As she stared at them though, she couldn't help but realise how painfully different it looked and even though she knew Brittany was hurting her, she felt so strongly like she was betraying the most pure of love's she has ever known.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15 – I stare at my reflection in the mirror; why am I doing this to myself?

Why is she doing this to herself? More like why is she doing this to her? To _Santana?_ She was a horrible person. She ought to be punished. Really badly. Really, _really _badly.

...Preferably more than she's punishing Santana.

This whole situation had grown more out of hand than the time she and the Latina had tried to catch a duck from the park pond. Brittany had really wanted a simple yellow duck as a pet but the ones at the park were only white or brown and it made her really upset. Santana being Santana had tried wading in to catch one of the white ones who had a row of several ducklings following it which were slightly yellow. Her foot, however, had got totally stuck in the mud and when Brittany went to help her, the same thing happened to her foot. They had legitimately got stuck in the pond mud and it was all they could do to keep each other up and afloat.

_"Babe, we can't scream because the bitches around us will inform the park officers and then we'll be dead." Santana said, gripping the blonde's bicep._

_ "I don't care, San, this is funny." She replied, giggling as the brunette clung to her arm, nearly losing her balance. She snorted._

_ "Britt!" Santana laughed, falling backwards when she tried unhooking her foot._

_ "San, hold on!" _

_ But it was too late. Santana had fallen backwards, making the loudest splash Brittany had ever heard. She had to try really hard not to wet herself._

_ When Santana resurfaced, her face was painted half thunder half sunshine. She gasped for air, searching for the blonde's hands and spitting the dirty water out of her mouth. Her coughing was noticed by several passers-by but Brittany didn't have the strength to stop laughing to tell Santana. _

_ "Would you quit your fun and help me up, Britt? I'm kinda drowning here." She hissed, grabbing the blonde's hands. _

_ Brittany pulled her up and in the process of trying to keep quiet, they heard the loud booming voice of the park officer._

_ "Shit." Santana cursed._

_ "San," Brittany breathed, still giggling, "stop worrying, this is fun." _

_ The park officer crept towards them, careful not to go in the water._

_ "Ladies!" He yelled, waving his arms. "Please step out of the water, now!"_

_ They both giggled when they tried to remove their feet but they just couldn't. Santana was trying really hard to get them out but Brittany just could not stop laughing. She was being absolutely no help at all. In the end, the brunette realised they were officially anchored to the spot and gave up with being worried. She took one look at Brittany's beautiful red face and burst out laughing with her. _

_ "Quit the laughing, ladies, and get out now!" The park officer boomed from the shoreline. _

_ "We can't!" Santana just about managed to gasp out._

_ "We're stuck." Brittany explained, still looking into Santana's mocha eyes._

_ The park officer hissed a sort of 'geez' and began removing his own shoes and socks. He rolled up his trousers and started wading in after them._

_ "No freaking way." Santana muttered under her breath. Brittany snorted again. _

_ When the officer reached them, he told Santana to hold on to him whilst he tried to remove her. He lifted her out easily, but when he tried to walk her back to the land, he realised he too was stuck in the mud._

_ "Shit." He cursed, causing Brittany to frown accusingly at him. It made Santana giggle. _

_ "Okay, look, I'm out now, so I can free you all." The brunette offered, doing her best to mimic a hero's accent. _

_ "Hey, lady, I ain't being rescued by some naive teenager here; I'm getting out of this myself."_

_ "Suit your selfish self then." She muttered, wriggling out of his arms. "But first, rescue my girl, and then we'll leave you to it."_

_ He gave them a funny look then. A look that Brittany would get to know extremely well. A look that said, 'shit, I just helped a couple of dykes?' _

Brittany shuddered at the memory of that look. She hated herself for being so sensitive to it. It wasn't even the worst look they'd received as a couple. And it wasn't even like Santana had said the word, 'girlfriend'. Brittany was just pathetically aware of it. Of everything.

She shrugged at herself in the mirror, as if to remove the bad omen that was so obviously surrounding her. It didn't work; it never did. She wondered if she'd ever feel happy again.

"Hey, Brittany?" Came Tina's small voice from outside the bathroom door. "Josh is looking for you. Can I come in?"

Brittany didn't know why she hadn't just come in straight away. "Yeah."

Tina walked in, her long black hair falling over her face as if she'd been running. She looked up at the blonde and smiled delicately. "Are you okay?"

"Sure."

"Okay." Tina paused. "Well, as I said, Josh is outside wondering what's taking you so long. He was making some awful jokes so I just decided to come in here myself."

"I'm fine." Brittany told her, even though she knew that didn't really answer the girl's questions.

"Okay. I'll tell him you'll be right out?"

"Okay." With that, Tina left, the door lightly clicking shut.

She looked at herself in the mirror again. She'd overheard Santana singing in The Barn yesterday and it had made her cry. She knew it was about her. She knew it was about getting over her. And she knew that this Oakley kid was the one making Santana do that. Get over her.

She knew she was being selfish. But when it came to Santana, nothing could stop that. This was the one person she knew better than her knowledge about unicorns, better than every single cat name she'd come across, or even better herself; she knew Santana better than she knew herself. Santana knew her better than she knew herself. Santana knew everything. That's what hurts so much.

That's what hurts so much.

She shook her head once more and examined her face in the mirror. She'd ran to the school toilets after Josh had asked her out on a date. She'd made a quick, perhaps too hasty, comment that she wasn't single and when he'd asked her who she was with, instead of saying Nick, she'd said "Santana".

_Duck poo._

She didn't think he'd noticed though. He's so dense it would have gone in one ear and out the other. In fact, it probably didn't even go in one ear to start with.

When she walked out, he was standing there, his back leant against the wall.

"I was beginning to think you'd drowned in your own shit." He said, laughing at himself. Brittany just stared at him, before turning to walk back towards the choir room where they had been rehearsing with everyone else.

All the pairs had been given a duet together in the song 'Moves Like Jagger' and it had pained Brittany to see Santana and that Oakley kid get _'take me by the tongue and I'll know you, kiss me till you're drunk and I'll show you...'_ whilst her and Josh had been given '_you wanna_ _know_ _how to make me smile, take control, own me just for the night and if I share my secret, you're gonna have to keep it, nobody else can see this.' _

_ Freaking typical._

When they had been told which song they were performing as a group, Mercedes had piped up, "hell yeah, our girl Brittany got them moves like Jagger!" And everyone had laughed. Everyone except her.

And Santana.

The brunette had looked like she was about to throw up. Brittany couldn't work out whether it was through disgust at her, or she genuinely felt ill. She hoped it was the latter.

When she entered the choir room, everyone had broken off into their pairs and was practising their parts. She couldn't help it, her eyes wondered straight to where Santana and Oakley were singing. She didn't look up at her.

Brittany felt sick.

xxxx

She'd come back. Why had she run away?

Santana thought she could ask that question about anything to do with Brittany. Anything. She just wished the first part was true. Real.

Shit.

"I don't like this song." Oakley concluded, frowning at the song sheet. "I don't get it."

"It's got a big ego, like the lyrics." Santana offered.

Oakley blinked. "Okay, that was really analytical."

Santana snorted. "So was that."

Oakley's mouth pulled into a grin before she giggled. "Point taken."

"So," The brunette said, trying to rid the image of a pale Brittany out of her head, "Do you want to harmonise together or sing different parts each?"

The blonde ran her tongue across her teeth and bit her bottom lip. Santana still couldn't grasp how she found it a turn on. It was so wrong, yet so right. Or was it?

Fuck, it doesn't matter.

"I think we should do both?" The quirky girl optioned, jutting out her chin slightly.

"Sounds good to me."

Oakley smiled wide, poking Santana on the nose with her finger. The Latina gulped, forcing down the memory of doing that to Brittany.

"Let's go."

They spent the majority of the morning working on their harmony and deciding who would sing the main part of each line. Santana felt she would be lost without Oakley's guidance with this. She knew exactly what she was doing. The girl was a genius. At one point, Santana had heard Josh say, rather louder than usual, to Brittany, "Cheer up girl, we can't have fun if you keep your head low. Although, I know down low is a beautiful sight."

The brunette had taken a couple of seconds to pull herself back from storming over there and giving that fucking kid a shiner in the right eye. Or maybe the left – it didn't really matter. What mattered was that he was giving her girl a hard time.

_Shit. _Her girl.

This hadn't gone unnoticed to Oakley, who stole a couple of minutes to study the girl.

"It's okay not to be okay, super voice." She said tenderly, reaching up to place her hand on Santana's neck.

Yesterday had not been forgotten by either of them. The tingles were still there. Santana couldn't work out if this was fortunate or unfortunate.

Looking up into Oakley's sparkling eyes, she shrugged and said, "Who says I'm not okay?"

She knew she was being defensive and out of order but she couldn't help it. She'd let her guard down in front of this girl yesterday and she wasn't about to do it again. Or maybe she would. Just...

_Just what, Santana?_

Oakley smiled and without hesitating, said, "I do."

"Well fuck you."

"Well fuck me."

The two blushed at what Oakley had just said but before they could get too embarrassed, Santana felt herself bristle up and she looked at the girl in front of her, frowning.

"Just so we're clear, quiffie, just because I let you kiss me yesterday does not mean you know everything about me all of a sudden. And it doesn't give you the right to make assumptions either."

Santana saw the blush that crept up Oakley's neck. Did she have to use the word 'assume'? And she'd kissed the girl back. She had; she couldn't deny it.

_Fuck._

"I'm not okay." The blonde admitted, swallowing visibly. She looked as if she was about to say something but nothing came out. She looked down at the floor then back up at Santana, breathing deeply. Taking one last breath, she placed her song sheet on the chair beside the Latina and left the room.

Santana felt shit. Was she not okay because of her?

Looking around her, she followed Oakley out of the choir room and down the halls of Brian Higgins Secondary, wholly aware of the piercing blue eyes that were stabbing her back with a force so powerful, she couldn't breathe.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Heya! I know I put these chapters up exceptionally fast but I wanted to get them all out there, seeing as I've written them. There will only be twenty chapters and so we're nearing the end. I PROMISE YOU BRITTANA IS ENDGAME. It always will be. Keep that in mind whilst reading this fic. **

**Please comment and thank you for all the alerts. There aren't many but I'm so new to this and I didn't even think people would find this story. Pass it on to friends if you'd like **

**Poppy x**

CHAPTER 16 – Heal what has been hurt.

When she finally caught up with Oakley – or rather, _found _her – the girl was sat in front of her laptop in one of the chairs in The Barn. As Santana walked closer, she noticed that she was looking at pictures. Of what, she couldn't tell just yet. She wondered why.

Without saying a word, she sat herself down next to Oakley. Neither turned to face each other. Glancing every so often at the screen, Santana saw that the braided blonde was actually looking through photos of children. Black kids, cheetahs, lions, some sort of monkey, other people Oakley's age, zebra, everything. Loads of African stuff. One picture came up of Oakley swinging a little girl around her, the biggest smile on each of their faces.

"Tell me," Oakley suddenly spoke, staring at the screen, "if you think these kids look okay."

Santana sighed internally. What was this really about? She took another look at the picture. They looked pretty happy. "I'd say they're alright."

Oakley remained deadpan. "And this one?"

An image of three little boys sat cross legged next to one another, eating chopped apple, and smiling widely appeared on the screen. Santana sort of grunted a response. Oakley continued to show her pictures of smiling kids, playing in the African sand and eating oranges and apples, without ever looking across at Santana. It irritated the Latina.

"Oakley, what's your point? I'm not dumb you know. I get that you're trying to prove a point to me." She sighed briefly, lowering her head. She muttered, "Like everyone is."

The blonde suddenly slammed her laptop shut and turned to face her. Santana jumped, thinking she was going to flip.

"Santana," She breathed, exasperated. Her English Rose complexion was creased slightly and her eyebrows were raised. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!"

The brunette was so taken aback, she didn't have time to come back at her.

"You're mad, I get it." Oakley continued, searching Santana's eyes for what, the girl didn't know. ""I really...I get it, okay? I do. But seriously? Why can't you accept how you feel? You've come here, all the way from freaking America, to just mope around and sing when you're told. Okay, this is not the best argument I've ever had, but I feel like it's an important one." She paused for a second, looking down at her lap before raising her eyes again and touching Santana's arm.

"Look," She continued, stroking her thumb across the Latina's skin. "Those kids I met in Africa? They weren't okay. Just because they're smiling and eating healthily and running around like they've got the best lives in the world, they're not okay. They're happy... but they're not okay. They go home to nothing – to little food, little space, little cleanliness. All the things we take for advantage. They're not okay." The blonde picked up Santana's hand and kissed it. "But you, Santana. You are _not_ happy. And you hate it but I _know _why. I pick up on these things, because that happens when you're going through the same thing."

Santana frowned, pulling her head back a little. "How the fuck are you going through the same thing?"

"See," Is all Oakley said, squeezing the girl's hand. "It really doesn't matter, that's beside the point. What matters is that you need to start realising that it's okay to feel the way you do... wait, to feel bad. To feel depressed and angry at the world. It's okay. But you have to remember that there are people worse off and therefore you have to try and be happy. Even if you don't feel that way inside. It's hard and stuff but it works. It makes you feel better. Accept who you are, Santana."

"Wait, okay, I see what you're saying, quiffie, I do but you cannot tell me to accept myself when you don't even know who that is."

"No. I don't know. But I know you're not afraid of it as well. You're just afraid of how you're feeling." Oakley reasoned, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe you should try having this talk with _her_?" The Latina snarled, looking away.

Santana cursed herself inside. Oakley had said she wasn't okay. Why was she being so mean?

"Look, I'm sorry. You said you weren't okay, and I'm sorry if that's my fault." She offered, stealing a glance at the blonde's face.

"Of course it's not your fault. I'm not okay but I'm happy." She stood up, leading Santana towards the stage. "Watch." She ordered, a cheeky grin appearing on her face.

The music for Olly Murs' _Dance With Me Tonight_ started blaring out of Oakley's iPod speakers and before the Latina could refuse, she's dragged onto the stage and is dancing about with her, singing along to the words, even though she doesn't know that many of them. Oakley spins them around together, twirling Santana round and round until all she can see is stars.

It surprised Santana how good Oakley was at dancing. It was like she was knowledgeable but completely on her own terms. Like she'd been taught by herself, but herself was a professional trained teacher. It was as if she was simply having fun. Happiness and fun.

But her dancing would never be as good as Brittany's. Santana didn't think anyone's would ever be.

They clapped themselves when the song ended. Oakley turned her iPod off and twisted to face the Latina. She smiled, high on adrenaline. Her smile turned into a giggle and then into a full on laugh. Their faces were red and Santana felt a little like she was happy.

But only for a second. It only lasted a fucking second.

"I never hear you sing something... sad. Or angry, or emotional." Santana commented, smiling delicately at the blonde. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to shield her heart from everything she was opening it up to. Happiness mostly.

"That's because I never want to."

"But you said it's best to sing about how you feel and to let it out." Santana reminded, raising an eyebrow. "You don't feel happy all of the time, Oakley."

"True." Oakley accepted, turning towards the seats to grab her bag. "You want me to sing about how I'm really feeling? I'll do it. In front of everyone. Tomorrow."

Santana cocked her head, challengingly. She stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Oakley slung her bag onto her shoulder. "At least then he'll know how I really feel."

Before Santana could question the girl, she was gone.

Xxxx

Brittany, for the life of her, could not work out what in duck's poo had made Oakley sing this song right now. In front of everyone. It just didn't make sense.

_Oh my god. Were her and Santana fighting?_

Brittany couldn't help but feel a little lighter at that thought. A little better.

_So say you love me,_

_Say you need me,_

_Don't let the silence,_

_Do the talking._

_Say you want me,_

_Or you don't need me,_

_Don't let the silence,_

_Do the talking._

_It's killing me,_

_It's killing me, oh._

_It's like I'm walking on _

_Broken glass,_

_I wanna know_

_But I don't wanna ask._

_Cause once you say_

_You can't take it back,_

_If this is the end,_

_Then please just make it fast._

Oakley's words were completely beyond Brittany. Who the hell was she singing this to? Or was she just singing it just because? Just because she felt like it, or just because she was Rachel's future daughter or something and was simply doing it to show off her talent?

She stole a glimpse at Santana sat next to Oakley's empty seat. The brunette was sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest with the biggest frown etched across her face Brittany had ever seen. Not just on Santana – on anyone. Her eyes were clouded over, which usually meant she was angry?

Why was Santana angry? If that bitch has made her girl angry-

_Duck poo, Brittany. She's not your girl. You're the one who hated that._

She took a couple of breaths before returning her attention to the Latina. She then realised that the girl was tearing up. At what, Brittany had no idea. Maybe this song was about Santana?

But it can't be. Oakley and Santana were still talking. Even after Oakley stormed out yesterday. _Well._ She didn't really 'storm' out. Just sort of...walked out. Gracefully.

Suddenly, Oakley let out a massive belting note, which Brittany and apparently no one else had ever heard from her before. Even Mr Childs was like 'ahhh' which his mouth wide open, practically dragging on the floor.

Santana had let a tear fall and before anyone saw, Brittany watched her swipe it away quickly. Then the clouded vision returned and she stood up and ran out. Brittany looked quickly at Oakley who was standing still, paralysed like she was surprised at herself. She didn't think the quirky blonde had even noticed Santana's exit.

That was her queue. That was her time to leave and run after the brunette herself.

So she did. She discreetly excused herself to Mr Schue, who was probably the only one not gawping at Oakley's performance, and hurried after the girl who should be in her arms right now.

"San?" She called, knowing that even if the girl heard her, she wouldn't answer. It was _Brittany _after all. "San?"

She checked the nearest toilets but no one was in there. She checked the hallway, where Santana had fainted that time but it didn't even smell like her, so Brittany figured she hadn't gone that way.

Turning back around, she heard the faintest echoes of her most favourite voice in the world.

_Santana._

She followed the voice to The Barn where she saw Santana sat right in the middle of the stage. Except she wasn't singing.

She was _whining._

Brittany studied the whimpering wreck and before she even had time to calculate what was happening, her feet were naturally running towards her.

"San?" She gasped out, when she reached her, not even caring that her hand automatically reached out to touch the brunette's shoulder.

Santana was crouched centre stage, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her head scrunched desperately in between them, rocking backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards.

Brittany fell onto her knees beside the quivering girl and looked at her. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four seconds. Santana didn't even register Brittany was there.

It was too much for the blonde. She decided to screw everything that was standing in their way and thank _god_ she was taller than the Latina. She wrapped her long legs around scrunched-up-Santana and enveloped her arms around her whole frame so that the girl was completely protected.

Her sobs would come in racks; every time the girl breathed in, she made a gasping sound and when she tried to breathe out, she would wail almost as if it hurt. Brittany really wasn't stupid; Santana was having a full blown panic attack.

She rested her head on Santana's, pressing her lips harder each time she wailed. It agonised her that she was doing this to her. That this was all her fault. How could she bring so much sadness and pain onto her best friend like this? She was a vile person.

In her pocket, Brittany pulled out a small daisy that Josh had given her that morning, in an attempt to woo her. It hadn't worked. Looking at it, she remembered the Disney film she'd taken her younger sister to go see, _Tangled_, and how the girl in that saves her Prince by singing a song about a flower.

Without hesitation, Brittany began singing that song to Santana, so softly, it was just a whisper through the Latina's whimpering.

_Flower, gleam and glow._

_Let your powers shine._

_Make the clock reverse._

_Bring back what once was mine._

_Heal what has been hurt._

_Change the fate's design._

_Save what has been lost._

_Bring back what once was mine._

_What once was mine._

It didn't stop Santana's tears but it calmed her sobbing. Just hearing Brittany's voice was enough for her. And even though she was so mad at her, so mad at _Brittany_ and _Oakley _and _everyone_, she was just too tired to fight it. Too tired to tell Brittany to go away. Too tired to keep the tears and sobs in. Too tired to even try anymore.

She tried breathing in deeply to rid the racking and it sort of worked. She just couldn't rid the anger. Why had Oakley sung that? Who had she been singing it to? So she was hurting too. Well isn't this a joyful world. The girl was a hypocrite. How many times had she told Santana to be happy even though she wasn't okay and then she fucking goes and sings a song with an insane amount of emotion even _she _didn't realise she had. How could you not know? How? _How_?

None of this even made sense. Oakley was just as much a fuck up as she was. And that's saying something. That's really saying something.

She was also crying because the words in Oakley's song had hit her. They'd hit her so bad, she thought she was going to pass out. Pass out from pain. From anger. From grief. From every fucking feeling on this fucking hugeass fucking planet.

_Ergh. _

When her sobs subsided, she instantly became aware of everything else. What she could hear, what she could smell, what she could _feel_.

Symmetrical breathing. Strawberries and cream. _Very _familiar arms.

_Shit._

She was concentrating so hard on cursing herself, she didn't even realise her own arms were grasping Brittany's and pulling her closer. She suddenly remembered how Brittany hadn't left her own house the whole week after she left Santana. Nobody saw her. Nobody even heard from her. The day she emerged from her house, her cell phone was glued to her hand and everyone in Glee club got a visit, except her. Santana bit her lip at the memory.

She then remembered how the day Brittany broke up with her, she had been wearing an awful lot of clothing, like she was trying to protect herself from Santana. It had broke the Latina's heart even more that Brittany thought she would go physical on her. She would _never _do that. Not even if Brittany threatened to kill her.

She felt herself lean towards Brittany, and settle in her red sweater. She was warm, cosy, safe.

"Oh, Britt..." She murmured, her eyes closed. "What did I ever do so wrong? What did I ever do so fucking wrong?"

Above her, Brittany's lips pressed to her head once more and the arms around her body squeezed so tight, Santana thought she would pass out again. Nearly.

"Nothing, San." Brittany randomly replied. "You did absolutely nothing wrong."

Santana sighed. She couldn't be bothered to fight. "Then why are we like this?"

There was silence for what Santana calculated as longer than three minutes before Brittany whispered, "You'll always be my best friend, San."

Without her consent, Santana began crying again. But this time, it was just silent tears and the occasional whimper – the sound of a useless warrior.

"Oh, sweetie, don't cry." Brittany's voice sounded above her. "Please don't cry. It hurts here when you do."

Santana felt her hand being pressed to Brittany's chest. If she wasn't so tired she would have made some comment about the gesture being unfaithful to the blonde's douche bag on the other end of her cell. But instead she savoured the feeling. It made her fucking cry some more.

They stayed like that for the rest of the morning. No one came to check on them. No one ever found them. When they got up to go to lunch, Brittany licked her thumb and gently brushed away the mascara rivers beneath Santana's eyes. The Latina knew she was apologising through her eyes. She knew that nothing had changed and that nothing could ever change. But she also knew that, even though she was still so mad at the girl and so frustrated with her choices, she would never have calmed down this morning without the comfort of the girl next to her.

Because of that, it didn't really matter that Brittany was wiping away her tears, and staring at her so lovingly. All that mattered, was that Santana felt she had the courage to get from this moment to the next. And whatever that moment was – pleasant or unpleasant – she knew that it was only Brittany who had got her there.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: This chapter might be hard for you all to read but I feel it needed to be there. Just skim it if you like (it was also hard to write!) but always remember, Brittana is ENDGAME.**

**Poppy x**

CHAPTER 17 – If you just let go...

She found Oakley crying silently in the piano room they were meant to be using to rehearse 'Moves Like Jagger'. Without speaking, Santana sat down next to her and placed her hand on the girl's bare knee.

"I'm sorry." Oakley whispered, burying her face in her hands.

"It's cool." Santana replied, breathing deeply.

They remained silent for a while, taking in each other's depression.

"Do you really feel like singing?" The quirky blonde asked, turning slightly to look at the Latina.

She snorted. "No, not really."

"Good, 'cause neither do I."

The silence returned.

"V's out again tonight." Oakley brought up, randomly. "Sam's taking her out."

"Oh really?" Santana wondered, amused.

"Fuckin' hate it when she's gone."

Santana turned to look at the girl, frowning. "It's only a night. And you won't even be with each other, so what's the problem?"

Oakley sighed. "I live with her, Santana."

"What?"

"I live with V. I live with her and her mum and V's billions of brothers and sisters." She added, trailing off, "All in that tiny house..."

"What did you do?" Santana rasped, raising her eyebrows and leaning closer to the blonde. The kid must have done something insane to be kicked out by her parents, surely?

There was silence for so long, Santana was going to tell her to forget about it. It must be pretty intense.

"I asked my Dad to turn the music up."

"Huh, sorry?"

"I said, 'Dad, this is an amazing song, you need to turn it up, come on!'." Oakley paused, looking down at her lap. "I mean, I fucking asked him to turn the music up, when there's this fucking huge storm outside. This storm that's making our car sway left to right. Up and down. Side to fucking side."

Santana thought she had stopped breathing. This conversation had not meant to turn this serious. What the fuck happened?

"He fucking took his eyes off the road for two seconds, _just_ to turn the music up, and he swerved the car right into a fucking ditch. Crash and they were gone. Just like that."

"What do you mean?" Santana pressed lightly.

"The worst part is that _I_ could have turned the damn music up myself. But I asked my Dad to do it and now they're all gone because of my fucking stupidity."

A huge wave of realisation and guilt engulfed Santana whole. _Fuck_.

"I had a twin sister, Jessica, three younger sisters and a baby brother. Josie, Hannah, Bray and Jim. But we called him Titch because he was so tiny. Tiny Titch." She stopped and buried her face again. "And I fucking killed them all."

"What?" Santana breathed, getting up and kneeling in front of the broken blonde. She didn't know why she felt compelled to do so but that's where she found herself. "No. No, Oakley, it wasn't your fault."

"Don't you think people tell me that all the time?" She argued, rubbing her eyes. "Don't you think people are always telling me I shouldn't feel guilty or that it wasn't me? V is _always_ telling me not to blame myself. Always. And I just can't seem to shake it."

_Shit. _She was worse off than Santana. Far worse off. "I'm so fucking selfish."

They stay in silence once more. Santana had no idea what to say.

"Do you want me to come over tonight to keep you company?" She offered, looking up at her. "If Sam get's an outside pass, I don't see why I shouldn't."

Oakley closed her eyes. "Santana, I would love that."

Xxxx

The smell of baking muffins filled the air when Santana walked in to V's house. She walked towards the kitchen where Oakley had her back to her, stirring something by the cooker.

She padded up behind the blonde and wrapped her arms around her middle, resting her head on the girl's shoulder. She had no idea why she did it. She had no idea if it made her feel good or if it made her feel guilty. She had no idea if she even liked it. It just felt right at the time.

"Hey, quiffie." She greeted, breathing in the scent of caramelised onions. She kissed Oakley's cheek and smiled against her skin.

Oakley turned around, half in surprise, half in confusion. Santana didn't even feel bothered. She just smiled sweetly at her.

She and Sam had left the hotel in good moods. Sam had just won against Mike on his gameboy and Santana had found a small note in very familiar hand writing on her bed, reading,

_Wherever you're going tonight, be safe, be careful and be okay._

It wasn't meant to make her feel that way. She guessed Brittany had written it seriously but Santana couldn't help but feel touched by the girl's genuine concern for her safety. Even if it fucked her off a little that Brittany never said that when she broke up with her.

She'd put on her black skinny jeans, a pink cropped t-shirt and her black leather jacket. Max had offered her his pink ribbon from a cake he was eating, so she'd tied that in her hair.

Oakley was wearing a long green, woollen jumper with a plain pair of black leggings. Her hair wasn't as crazy as usual. It was toned down, and the quiff was clipped back against her head. Her ears were covered in green feathers which made Santana smile.

"Hi," Oakley finally managed to say.

Santana crept forward and hugged her, breathing in her ear, "Relax. I'm not going to jump you."

Oakley giggled. "You wish."

"Maybe."

They parted and Oakley continued stirring the onions. For some reason, Santana couldn't keep her hands off her. It was like the girl was Brittany. She was just a little happier than usual. She hugged Oakley from behind again, nipping at the girl's flesh on her neck and giggling when the blonde screamed, "Santana!"

"What's put you in such a great mood?" Oakley questioned, moving to the oven to remove the muffins.

"I wanna cheer you up." Santana stated innocently, smiling sweetly once more.

Oakley smiled, placing the muffins in front of Santana. "They're cheese and vegetable muffins. See if you like them."

Santana bit into one and nearly moaned. "Christ, quiffie, who knew you could cook?"

Oakley laughed gently, accepting a bite Santana offered from her own. "My Dad was a great cook."

Santana stopped chewing and looked up to catch the blonde's eyes. Finishing her mouthful, she got up and walked over to the blonde and hugged her again. "I can tell," She whispered to her.

Dinner was also incredible. Santana felt the size of a house by the time they had finished and when they went up to Oakley and V's bedroom, she had to lay flat on the bed and just groan.

"You look dead," Oakley commented, hovering by the door.

Santana shifted her face a little to get a better look at the girl. "Would you get your arse down here and come lie with me? I swear to god I won't touch you."

Oakley frowned, walking over. "I don't mind if you touch me. I'm just..."

"Scared?" Santana offered, raising herself up. She sat cross legged and smiled carelessly. "Everyone is."

She watched as Oakley's face frowned a little more and then straighten out to a sort of smile. "Scare me then."

Santana could play this game. It made her forget about Brittany a little easier.

She got on all fours and moved over to where Oakley was sat at the edge of the bed. She leant as close to her as she could, her face millimetres from the blonde's. "Scared yet?"

Oakley hesitated before shaking her head. Santana moved a little closer. "Now?"

Another head shake. Another few millimetres and their lips were touching.

It wasn't like the last kiss. It was dangerous, sultry, daring. It kinda turned Santana on.

Oakley whimpered into her mouth and it was all she could do to keep on all fours. She whimpered again and before Santana could reposition herself, Oakley pulled away. It neither disappointed or relieved Santana.

"Okay, wow." The quirky blonde breathed, looking down.

"That scare ya?"

"A little." She admitted. "Mainly because I liked it."

Santana leant back. "Honest."

Oakley stared at Santana, as if she was trying to figure her out. "Come here," She demanded, taking her arm around the brunette's neck and pulling her towards her. This kiss was heated. Really, _really_ heated. Their breath was all over the place, their hands roaming in places neither had really thought about going.

_Fuck it, _Santana thought, pushing Oakley down so she was on top of her. She skimmed her tanned hand down the side of Oakley's leg, kissing her neck at the same time.

"Maybe you shouldn't have asked your Dad to turn the music up," She breathed against it, her hands applying pressure further south of Oakley, "and maybe you do feel like you killed them all. But you can't change the past, Oak." She sucked harder on the girl's neck and along to her jawline, biting the bone carefully. She slipped a hand in between the girl's legs and pressed softly. Oakley moaned lightly.

"They're not going to come back." She continued, sucking harder in between each breath. "But they live on in you. In your heart is a load of memories and they will always be there, Oak, I promise. I promise you."

Santana grunted when she felt Oakley's hands grip her waist and pull her lower so their flushes were against each other. This wasn't love, or feelings or anything like that. This was just passion. Desperation, passion and a little care for one another.

Santana took her hand back up to Oakley's chest and slipped a thigh in between her legs instead. The girl sighed breathily, gripping her waist tighter.

The blonde pulled Santana's face closer to her so she could whisper in her ear. "But you can."

"I can what?" The brunette gasped, moving her thigh up and down causing friction for Oakley. She groaned in return.

"Get her back."

Santana looked down at the blonde, her thigh still moving, her hands still groping. "How?"

"By doing exactly what you're doing to me now."

Santana's grip on Oakley's chest hardened and the blonde squirmed. "Sex?"

"This isn't sex." Oakley gasped. "Is it?"

The brunette only smiled knowingly, beginning to kiss down the blonde's neck and pulling off her jumper. Her kisses found their way to the girl's chest, down her abdomen and towards her legs.

"Fuck me," Oakley moaned, wriggling a little.

"Will do," Santana complied jokingly, smiling up at the girl.

"Oh, Santana, I mean it...shit..."

Santana giggled to herself.

"I mean you can get her back. Just... just do this...well, maybe not _this_, but... but just show her you care... tell her... tell her how you really feel..._fuck._"

Santana teasingly bit in between Oakley's legs over her leggings, moaning a little at the fun of it. "I would if I could. She's already taken."

She slipped her fingers over Oakley's leggings and pulled them down just a little, so only her pants were on show. She teasingly bit again, making Oakley squirm and quiver with pleasure.

"Fuck, Santana... you're good at this...but, listen, please... just please try with her. Finders keepers and all that shiz..._shit a freaking brick..._"

Santana giggled again and this time pulled the girl's pants down, so she could see everything.

"Okay, I'm a little scared now." Oakley admitted, sitting up. Santana crept up and pushed her back down, kissing her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone and murmuring how it was okay and it wasn't her fault if she could just let go.

When Oakley came undone, she quivered beneath her, a somewhat beautiful mess of crashed piano keys and broken melodies.

"And," Santana whispered, gently kissing the girl's forehead, eyebrows and jaw line, "You can get _him_ back too...whoever he is."

Xxxx

When she returned to the hotel room, and crawled into her bed, she couldn't help but realise that not only had she managed not to kiss Oakley's lips during the sex, she had also managed not to get it from her either. She knew this wasn't intentional at the time. She hadn't even thought about it.

But now... Now she was glad she didn't. Because she finally realised that it would always be like that with anyone - any girl – who wasn't Brittany.

And it hurt her so bad to know that whatever she did tomorrow, or the day after that, and on and on, she would never have Brittany the way she had her before. She was going to have to accept that she was going to be forever alone. Unless she murdered the douche bag at the other end of her cell. But that would be terrible. No way. It would have to take some act of miracle to have Brittany back in her arms again. And right now, she had absolutely no idea what kind of miracle that could be. All she could do was hope that Brittany saw her acceptance as a sort of closure and she wouldn't torture her with stolen touches anymore.

_Fuck._

She slipped back out of bed and walked over to Brittany's.

She knelt down beside the dancer and watched her sleep for a little before she whispered, "you'll always be my best friend too, Britt."

She hoped it would be a significant good bye.

And just as the blonde opened her eyes slowly, Santana leant forward and kissed the girl's lips, so that they were the last thing she would taste, smell and feel before she went to bed.

The thought of the last time those lips would be on hers before she closed her eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I'M SORRY FOR THIS CHAPTER! But enjoy it anyway. Remember what I said ;)**

**Poppy x**

CHAPTER 18 – Where are the stars – the ones that we used to call ours?

"Girl, you need to keep them pretty eyes open so we can do this song good." Mercedes chastised Brittany, as they put on their black trousers and white shirts backstage. Brittany smiled slightly and yawned once more. Mercedes shook her head, smiling to herself.

The blonde tucked her shirt into the high-waisted trousers and tightened the belt. Looking at herself in the mirror, she wrapped the bow tie around her neck and tied it skilfully. As she was straightening it, she caught a glimpse of Santana in the mirror, helping Oakley do her buttons up. They were giggling because the brunette was struggling with the top button. It made Brittany feel weird again.

She hadn't slept all night because the tingling on her lips had kept her awake.

She hadn't meant to enjoy it however brief it was.

She hadn't supposed to be awake either. She was just worrying. Worrying about everything.

_Dammit._

"Britt?"

_That voice._

She turned around and was met with Santana's mocha orbs penetrating her ocean blue ones. It was lethal. "Yeah?"

Even though the girl was smiling, Brittany still noticed the flicker of pain that shone in the embers of Santana's eyes. It was still there.

It was still freaking there.

"Good luck." Was all she said.

"Thanks. You too."

She smiled before returning to the quirky blonde who had got her attention. It really broke Brittany's confused little heart.

She watched as the two girls laughed at how each other looked and how they would snort whenever one of them got the wrong note in their harmony as they practiced it. Brittany couldn't help but feel desperate. Neglected. Left behind.

Just like she'd left Santana behind.

She knew that last night was Santana saying good bye. She knew that the brunette had decided Brittany wasn't worth it anymore. She knew that when their lips met so perfectly, it was whispering all the words neither of them could say.

What they should have said.

_Oh._

She sighed and continued sorting herself out. Going crazy over Santana's love life was not going to help the situation. If anything, it would make it so much more worse that Brittany didn't think she'd ever overcome it. In fact, she knew that she wouldn't even survive. Crazy as that sounds, it was the truth.

It struck her then that she needed to do what Santana was doing. She needed to take a step back and just do it. Just leave. Leave properly and say the words she never thought she'd ever have to say.

She needed to tell Santana good bye.

Xxxx

The song had been a success; the rest of the school had really enjoyed it. At the end of the performance, Santana felt that familiar rush of adrenaline she thought she'd lost forever. It was the nicest feeling.

She clasped Oakley's hand, squeezing it when the audience began whistling and cheering. She hadn't felt this in so long. She closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them, she immediately looked across to her right – a natural instinct.

_They'd just finished performing at sectionals and Santana had never felt so happy. They'd smashed it. They'd smashed it with both fists and both knees. She turned to her right where Brittany was skipping around the stage frantically. It wasn't even like they'd won yet._

_ Santana left her spot to jump over to the dancing blonde and when she reached her, she held her face in her hands and looked straight into her eyes._

I love you, _they said honestly, before wrapping her arms around the beautiful girl._

_ When they parted, Brittany found Santana's hand and bowed with her to the raving audience. The blonde turned to her and hugged Santana again. It felt like magic. Absolute magic._

_ "I love you, Santana." She whispered in her ear. "You were the best tonight. You are always the best in every night." _

_ "You were the best too." The Latina replied, burying her neck in Brittany's neck. "I can never be the best without you." _

_ "Yes you can, silly." Brittany argued, squeezing Santana harder. "Because when I'm not here anymore, you're still going to be the best because you're beautiful and talented." _

_ A lump caught in Santana's throat and she had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut before she whispered, "You're beautiful too, Brittany. You're so beautiful, sometimes I can't breathe." _

_ "Are you breathing now?"_

_ "I never am."_

When the New Directions had finally arrived back at the hotel, after the party Up and Away had held for them at school, everyone was either buzzing or shattered.

"It's the words she whispers in the fucking dark in the fucking night." Santana slurred, as she stumbled in, draped over Sam and Max's shoulders. They dumped her on her bed and asked the girls to just check she was breathing every once in a while.

It wasn't even like they'd been served alcohol. Josh and Jack had just gone to the school dining hall and found some in the kitchen. Brittany thought it was slightly weird that there was alcohol on school campus but this was England she figured.

Tina and Mercedes moaned about Santana's inability to remain in control whilst Lauren slapped the brunette's bare thigh with her hand and told her to quit the slurring and go to sleep. Brittany too wasn't really in the mood for another one of Santana's weepy break downs. She'd thought the girl had gotten over her sadness last night but this drunken state she was now currently in told a completely different story.

The Latina rolled onto her side and pulled her pillow close to her face. "Those fucking words," She kept whimpering, balling her hands into fists and punching them into her eyes. Brittany couldn't work out what she meant.

"Santana!" Mercedes yelled, getting into her pyjamas. "Shut the hell up, girl!"

It only made her whimper more.

Brittany tried going to the bathroom to change and to get ready but it did little use. It wasn't that she didn't care. It was just that every time Santana did this, she would say things that the next day would make her really angry. It wasn't worth the pain it put Brittany through.

Oh, she was being so selfish wasn't she?

Xxxx

All Santana could think about was those words. All the things Brittany says to her in the dead of night. All the silent whispers that Brittany's awake soul sends to her in the pitch dark. She wasn't imagining them. She could hear them clearer than she could hear her own breathing.

Every time Brittany exhaled, she was telling Santana she was tired of pretending. Every time she pulled Santana's yellow cardigan closer to her nose, she was telling her that she missed her more than she's ever missed anything before. Every time Brittany stretched out and lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling, she was telling Santana she was lost and couldn't be found.

And she was so tired of them. She just wanted them to go away so she could finally sleep. Because she was so tired. So, so tired.

"Just go away stupid words." She heard herself mumble, scrunching her face into her pillow. She began singing. She felt delirious. Lost and freaking delirious. "Fly, fly away silly, stupid words that make me sleepy, sleepy, sleepy...fly away to unicorn land silly stupid wordy words...sleepy, sleepy, sleepy."

She knew Brittany was in the bathroom.

_Good._

No. It wasn't fucking good. She wanted Brittany with her. Around her. Near her.

She couldn't do this good bye thing. Good byes ducking sucked.

_Ducks._

"Duckies say goodbye." She mumbled again, feeling herself drop into tears. "Duckies say good bye to Santana. I'll miss you, duckies. Quack, quack, quack."

_Fuck, _she thought, crying again. _What am I even saying?_

The bathroom door opened and she was faintly aware of Mercedes informing Brittany that she was, in fact, mad.

_Mad, I say! Absolutely barking mad!_

The English accent in her head was perfect.

Brittany didn't do anything. Santana just listened to the rest of the girls climbing into bed and turning the light off. Santana didn't like that the light had gone off. It meant Brittany would start talking again.

No. She couldn't listen to the talking again. No way. Absolutely not.

_Get me out of here, _she thought, holding her breath and counting to ten. Why?

Nothing happened.

Brittany exhaled.

_Fuck you._

Santana didn't realise she'd said it out loud until she felt someone slip in behind her and say it back to her. She didn't want Brittany there. Or did she? She had a minute ago... hadn't she?

The blonde's arm snaked around Santana's waist and for a moment she could breathe again.

"Don't." She whispered, even though her hand found Brittany's and gripped it tighter than she really thought she'd ever gripped anything before.

Brittany exhaled heavily into the back of Santana's neck, softly sighing, "Oh, San..."

The Latina closed her eyes and felt her eyebrows knot together. "I can't breathe, Brittany."

"Oh, sorry." The blonde apologised, loosening her grip around Santana's waist.

"No, Brittany," She repeated, "I can't _breathe_."

The dancer stilled. "Is it because I'm here?" She asked innocently.

Santana sighed desperately. It was because of that. It was because she was lying beside her, with her arms wrapped round Santana's whole being. But it was also because of their performance today. The party. The silly, stupid words Brittany said at night. The fact that however hard Santana tried to ignore it, Brittany was getting more and more beautiful every day.

And she couldn't touch a single part of it.

That's why she couldn't breathe.

Santana sobbed as a reply. It came out as a sort of laugh.

"What's funny, San?" Brittany giggled.

"Shh!" Mercedes hissed.

"San?" Brittany pushed, both of their laughter's getting the best of them.

"Damn it you two, I mean it." Mercedes chastised. "Shut the hell up."

Santana rolled over to face Brittany, still laughing and trying desperately hard to understand why she wasn't weeping at her feet. Maybe she was. Maybe laughing deliriously was actually another way of pouring your damn heart out.

"Do you wanna get outta here?" She slurred, her words spewing out in bouts of laughter. "Let wheezy over there get her big momma beauty sleep."

She couldn't see Brittany's face through the darkness. They were close, their faces inches apart, but Santana just couldn't see her... see what she was thinking, or feeling because the room was too dark.

It was always _too dark_.

"I'd love that." Brittany replied.

Santana thought she might faint.

They stayed still for a second before pushing the covers back, grabbing a coat and shoes, and creeping out of the hotel, down into the lobby and out into the outer London night sky. The air was bitter, and as they walked towards the river, Santana felt Brittany creep up beside her and slip her arm through hers. She froze. Partly because of the temperature but mostly because this kind of _thing_ hadn't happened in _so damn long_.

"Relax," Brittany whispered, pulling Santana closer. "Just relax for now."

Wasn't that a kind of selfish thing to say?

When they reached the river, Santana felt herself start to sober up. She laughed gently once more for measure and then sank into the cold wooden bench on the sidewalk.

"What are you finding so funny, San?" Brittany repeated her question from earlier, smiling affectionately at the girl.

Santana shook her head slightly before answering, "This."

She felt Brittany sigh. "I think this is nice."

"Yeah," The brunette replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She just couldn't seem to escape the resentment. "For you, Britt. You get to have this nice little moment with me and then you get to run back to someone who actually loves you and actually makes you happy. I go back to a bed that isn't even mine. And with no one else in it."

"San..."

They let the silence envelope them for a while. Brittany was the first to speak.

"Don't ruin this, Santana."

"Ruin what, Brittany?" She argued back, defensively. "It's already ruined."

Brittany dropped her head and loosened her grip on the other girl's arm. Santana couldn't help but grip it back.

"You know, I go back to a bed that's not even mine and with no one else in it, too."

Santana felt her eyes water up. "Brittany, it doesn't matter where you are in the world, your bed or not, you know that always waiting for you somewhere is someone who loves you more than they love anything else." As she said the words, she couldn't help but realise that they were more honest than what she'd originally thought. She bit her lip hoping Brittany wouldn't notice.

She did.

"Who do you mean, Santana?"

"The douche bag at the other end of your damn cell."

She felt Brittany deflate even though she'd lied.

"Brittany, I'm going to tell you the truth here." She found herself saying. She frowned and sat back slightly, thinking _what the hell?_

"Look," She continued, shaking her head and gripping Brittany's arm tighter. "I'm hurting, okay? I'm really hurting. And I _hate_ it because I don't want to be like that. I want to be someone who..." She paused to gather a choke in her throat. "Who can look after the person I love."

"Oh, San..."

"Brittany, please?" She interrupted, looking into her eyes for the first time in a while. She turned away and took a deep breath. "I fell in love with you completely unconsciously. I never knew it was happening until one morning when I saw that freshman kid tell you that your..." She felt herself smile despite herself. "... Your really cute backpack with the ducks on was for kids only. I've never felt so angry in all my life. I beat that kid up with every bit of strength I had because I didn't want to see your face crumple the way it did. We were fourteen, Britt, and I already knew. I already knew that this was it. I was never going to find anyone else. You were the one and I was going to grow up loving you the way I always had. More."

"But San," Brittany said, her sweet strawberry breath blowing gently on Santana's cheek. "I knew way before then."

Santana looked up from the ground and frowned at the blonde. "Yeah?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah! I knew when you invited me round for tea that time when we were about four and you'd baked cookies with your mama and when I got there, they were all laid out on this tiny table and you opened the door for me and smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen. And when you led me to the table, you took out a pen and paper and asked me what I wanted to drink. When I said wine, you nodded and then whispered as if the world could hear us, 'but you know it'll just be juice because I wouldn't want you getting drunk, BrittBritt.' And I giggled and you brought us back some raspberry juice with about four different straws and when you sat down, you told me that I looked really pretty and that my eyes were the colour of your Abuela's teapot. Even at four, I knew that was a compliment." Brittany stopped to capture Santana's eyes and hold them there. "I knew then that I wanted you to be my wife and to live with me in a big house where we could have raspberry juice every single day for the rest of our lives. And that we would never invite your brother because he always used to tell me I looked like a baboon."

Santana laughed, even though she felt this tremendous bitterness rise in her throat at the fact Brittany had pushed those dreams so far away they were never going to come back.

"I used to whack him so hard when he said that to you." The brunette reminisced, exhaling deeply. She felt herself freeze over and she knew she had to ask. "Why did you leave, Brittany? Why did you leave me alone?" She didn't want to cry again. She figured she wasn't as sober as she first thought. "After everything we both went through: that damn duets competition, _Landslide_, Artie, nationals, my family... feels all pointless and worthless now that I don't even have what I was fighting for."

"Santana, there is stuff you don't know that happened to me in the summer." Brittany admitted, facing the floor. "Stuff that I'm so afraid of and that I can't even talk to my mum about."

If Santana wasn't so upset, she would have found the time to feel bad for Brittany but her anger got the better of her. "Stuff that only a guy could help you with, right?"

"Santana," Brittany scolded, turning to face her. "Please, I was so scared..."

"Britt, did you ever stop to think that I can help you? That I _want _to help you?"

The blonde paused, shaking her head. "We're girls, San. We cant-"

"I get it, Brittany. Watch me struggle, and tell me it's okay and everything will be fine. Tell me that anything's possible and that, yes, we can do this. Well you know what, Britt? You were right. Anything _is _possible." Santana cut herself short, choking on a sob. "I just forgot that when something is impossible, it's impossible for life."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The blonde asked, confused.

"It means that I don't have you anymore. It means that I never had you." Santana's face crumpled, and she had to stand up, had to get away from here.

Brittany followed.

"San, wait!"

The brunette ignored her.

"San, _please!_" The blonde gasped. "Just wait."

She stopped, her back to the dancer.

"I can't not have you in my life, San." Brittany admitted, letting her arms fall to her side. "I just can't."

Santana clenched her fists. "Neither can I, Britt. It's just too hard." She breathed deeply, tears falling down her face again. "But it's harder to know that I can look but I can't touch. This is it, Brittany. I can't do this anymore. It's all or nothing now. And I know what your answer is going to be." She turned around and caught the blonde's pain-filled eyes. "This is good bye." She said. "Properly this time."

"What?" Brittany whimpered, beginning to walk towards Santana. "No, San. No, this can't be good bye."

Santana cocked her head to the right and pursed her lips, trying to stop the flowing tears. Her voice was shaky. "Good bye, Britt."

She turned around and ran before she could change her mind.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: We made it. Just like I promised you. This is a looong chapter but enjoy the reunion ;) next chapter is the last chapter.**

**Poppy x**

CHAPTER 19 – I would wait for you, I would wait all night, just the thought of you before I close my eyes.

In the midst of all her pain, Santana had completely forgotten that Sam and Mercedes were together. And therefore, Sam going out with V was obviously wrong.

Had she really been that self-centred to not even notice that?

She looked up over at him – Trouty Mouth – and found herself glaring. Why?

They were all in the choir room, talking about the International competition in London in a month. It was their last day in England and Santana couldn't help but feel relieved. She could get home, get to her own bed and just stay there. Forever. She really just wanted to go now.

Spotting V on the other side of the room, she decided to go over and confront her. She didn't know why, she just thought it best to do. It was also giving Oakley the wrong impression. The quirky blonde thought that V was finally having a serious, proper relationship.

_Fucking Froggy Lips._

She shoved her fists into her grey hoodie and wondered over.

"V," She greeted, smiling slightly when the other brunette turned around. She was prettier than Santana had thought. She had bright green eyes and long warm hair, the colour of oak.

"Santana," She smiled brightly, parading glowing white teeth.

"Hi...um...okay, I just wanted to ask about how things are with Sam? Like, are they good?" She coughed and looked down to the ground.

V narrowed her eyes. "What's your angle?"

"Shit, are you banging?" She felt her cheeks burn with rage.

V's whole face turned red and her eyes widened. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Santana frowned, wholly confused. "What the fuck?"

"Sam and I are _not _banging!"

The whole room turned silent and turned towards Santana and V.

"Shit."

Oakley wondered over to them and put her hands on both their arms. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, maybe you should ask _Trouty Mouth_ over there?" Santana hissed, pointing her anger in his direction.

"Sam?" Mercedes questioned.

"Santana, what is this about?" The blonde boy asked, walking over to where they were standing.

"Santana, no one is meant to know that they're seeing each other." Oakley said lowly.

"What?" Mercedes yelled, walking over. "Hell to the no!"

"What?" Sam said, scrunching up his face.

"Excuse me?" V challenged, looking Santana in the eye.

"V?" Oakley whispered, surprised with the tone she was using on the brunette.

Santana stood back and put her hands up. "Okay, I have no idea what the hell is going on but from where I stand, V and Sam are hooking up and wheezy is clueless about the whole thing."

"Are you serious, Sam?" Mercedes said, hurt spreading across her face. "I thought you were helping the girl not getting into her panties."

"I was..." Sam replied, looking at Santana. "What, I am helping V. She and I haven't done so much as hugged one another."

"Helping her with what?" Oakley asked gently. Santana could see she was hurt that she didn't know.

Sam squirmed slightly and then looked to the floor, his face turning red. V looked so panicked, she might as well have been shocked by a ghost. Mercedes looked ashamed and held onto Sam's arm.

_What the actual fuck?_

Just as Santana was about to speak, V fled the room. Oakley went to follow her but Sam told her to stay behind and that he would go. Mercedes then said maybe it was best that Santana went.

"But I don't even have a clue what this is about?" She snapped, glaring at the two of them.

"Well maybe it's time to find out."

Xxxx

She found V clambering into her little car in the school car park. She had tears streaming down her face and Santana couldn't help but feel incredibly guilty.

"V!" She called, breaking into a run to get to her.

The girl ignored her, desperately sorting out her mirrors and turning the engine on.

_Shit._

Santana reached the car and yanked the door open.

"V?" She said, putting her palm over the girl's hand where she was putting the car into gear. "Stop."

The green-eyed girl stopped and closed her eyes. "I'm such a coward."

"What?"

"How do you do it, Santana?"

"Do what?"

"Feel?" V wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and inhaled deeply. She leant back into her seat. "Feel things you shouldn't feel?"

Santana frowned. She breathed deep and looked straight ahead of her. "I don't."

"Oh, yes you _do_, Santana." V gasped, putting her hand to her head. "You feel things for girls. For Oakley. For that Brittany kid."

"Yeah," Santana replied defensively, "And I don't do it. You asked how I do it, and I don't."

"I'm sorry." V said simply.

Santana wondered why she was there. "I was bad before, yeah, but if I felt something for someone else's girl, I wouldn't act on it... It's fucking hard, but I wouldn't do it."

"You think this is what this is all about?" V asked, her voice cracking.

Santana frowned. "I'm so confused now."

"Santana," V pushed, glaring at the steering wheel. "I'm fucking in love with my best friend."

"Fucking hell." Santana had so _not _been expecting that.

There was a long silence before Santana asked, "Why Sam?"

V smiled a little. "Because he told me that he'd been homeless once and that he knew what to do and where to go."

"So you think your parents will kick you out if you tell them?"

"What? No. God no." V shook her head. "I want to help Oakley. She wants to move out so she's not a burden to my mum anymore and I want to help her do it."

Santana frowned. "So what's this got to do with being in love with her?"

V looked over at her and knotted her eyebrows together. "Because I realised that I didn't want her to move out. That I like having her in my bed every night and I like cooking with her, showering with her, cleaning with her... doing all the things couples do."

"But you kept on seeing Sam even though you realised this?"

"Yes," V breathed, "Because I want Oak and I to move out _together._ It's so small, my house, living with five brothers and sisters. I want to be with Oak in our own home, doing the things I've grown to love in our own place."

Santana could relate. "But Oakley doesn't know any of this?"

V looked frightened again. "No," She barely whispered.

Santana laughed to herself a little. "For the record, and don't get angry with me, neither of us knew..." She smiled before taking V's hand and holding it tight. "She kissed a girl and she liked it."

"What?"

"Neither of us knew, and I don't think you did either but she'll be okay with it. I know she'll be okay with it." Santana reassured.

"But what about Jack?"

_Shit. _"Jack?"

"Yeah, the guy who she was with up until the end of summer."

It suddenly dawned on Santana who this guy was and why Oakley had always been so 'I'm not okay but I'm happy' all the time. She thought of Jack and all the times he spent coming up with crude jokes with Josh and she knew who Oakley would ultimately love.

"Trust me. I know she's hurting about it and I know that maybe she's not completely over him." Santana paused before squeezing V's hand. "But tell her how you feel and go from there. It's too exhausting keeping it in the whole time. Just let it out."

V smiled before hugging Santana. "Thank you. And I'm sorry it came to this."

"It's cool."

"Hey, we're all going out tonight into London. Don't know if you'd like to come with us? I'm sure Oakley would have told you. Sam and Mercedes are coming too. Just us five. I promise."

"I'd love that."

Xxxx

She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked smokin'. She had on a skin tight black dress that Oakley had leant her which had a bright pink sequin strip that was emblazoned across the chest area. She had tied the left side of her hair back with a bobby pin and had curled the rest of it. Her lipstick was pink and she felt good. Really good.

She slipped on Oakley's pink glittery heels, blew a kiss in the mirror and walked out of the bathroom.

Mercedes wolf whistled from where she was sat on her bed pulling on her own heels.

"I can't believe you own a pair of heels, wheezy." She commented, making the girl snort.

When they left the room, they passed Brittany who had just obviously been on her cell talking to that guy. She looked as if she'd been crying but Santana didn't have time to wonder why. Mercedes was dragging her down the hall and into the lift because they were already late.

They had to catch the train into the town centre. Santana had never done this before. There was a buzz surrounding them that made her want to dance. It was crazy.

She found V on the train and sat down next to her.

"Anything happened?" She asked.

V bowed her head. "I told her I loved her and she told me she loved me too. But that was it."

"I'm sorry. Maybe tonight?"

V perked up and smiled. "Already on it."

Santana laughed and glanced up at Oakley. She was wearing long pink skinny jeans with a figure hugging dark blue strapless top. She did look good. She knew that V was thinking the same.

When they reached the club, they showed their ID's and walked in. The buzz of excitement that surrounded the atmosphere was electric. So crazy. They climbed the stairs towards the bar and dance floor. When they reached the top, Oakley grabbed Santana's hand and nestled her head into her neck.

"What are you drinking?"

"As much fucking vodka as I can."

"Yes! Me too."

"Really?"

Oakley frowned. "Yeah, why not?"

"But why?"

The quirky blonde looked down at the floor. When they reached the bar, V, Sam and Mercedes all ordered some alcopops and moved towards the dance floor. V turned round to ask if they were coming but Oakley said they would in a minute. Santana caught the flicker of hurt in V's eyes.

"Oakley, I-" She started, turning back round to face her.

"I don't want to feel anymore." She interrupted.

"The fuck?"

Oakley spoke louder over the music. "I don't want to feel anymore!"

"What do you mean?"

"V told me she loved me!"

Santana smiled. "I know!"

Oakley frowned. "What?"

"I'm not dumb, Oakley." She quickly reasoned. "I'm gay, I have awesome gaydar."

The blonde giggled, ordering a vodka and lemonade. "Sure, okay."

"It's true!" Santana defended herself, taking a sip of her own drink.

"You wanna do shots?"

"No."

"What?"

"No, Oakley." Santana took her hand. "Do you love V?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Then what the fuck are you doing wanting to get fucking smashed?"

"I'm sorry?" Oakley looked genuinely pissed.

"Somebody once told me that if I loved myself as much they loved me, I would dance with them. It takes time but you do get there." Santana laughed at Oakley's confusion. "Basically, just go dance with your girl! And forget about douche bag Jack. He's not worth it as much as she is."

"You're only saying that 'cause you worship pussy."

"Oakley! Fuck off."

The blonde giggled before taking her drink and moving to dance with V. As Santana watched them, she couldn't help but feel awful. She herself was missing out on that all because of a douche bag like Jack.

Actually. That wasn't fair. He was probably really nice. Nice enough for Brittany to love him. But then again, he'd taken her girl and left her alone for life.

Who was she kidding? She fucking hated the living soul of that guy.

She asked for another vodka and realised that if she drank anymore, there would be a repeat of the other night.

_Not again._

She knew that she should dance. She knew that she should just get up and do it, but there was no one to do it with. She didn't want to intervene with V and Oakley's discovery of love for one another and she didn't want to interfere with Sam and Mercedes being absolute nerds on the dance floor. Because then everyone would look at her and think, fuck, she's a nerd too.

And she wasn't.

Was she?

She downed the vodka and asked the barman for another.

_Shit._

"Are you alright, lady?" He asked, pouring it for her.

"I'm gay." She said straight out, neither wishing him to back off or wishing him to come on to her. She just wanted him to know. Just so that he knew what she was struggling with.

He looked taken aback. "I wasn't expecting that."

Santana laughed. "But did you assume it?"

He looked genuinely confused. "No, I didn't. You don't look the gay type."

"And what may that be?"

"For starters you're American and they tend to be hot bitches who come in here and think they can just order every drink under the sun." He bent down to grab a bucket of ice and slammed it on the bar top.

"Do I not look like a hot bitch?"

"Yes, you do. But you're order has been consistent, so you're not the stereotypical American. And secondly, you're grabbing nearly all of the guy's attentions round here and usually lesbians have pretty good gaydar and none of them are even looking twice at you." He shrugged as if to apologise for being honest.

"It's called emotional turmoil." She informed him. "You see, when a lesbian is in distress, which I am, all the other lesbians can't detect her on their _awesome _gaydar, because really, why would you wanna bang a girl dripping in issues? They sense that I'm a train wreck and they don't want to have anything to do with me."

The barman smiled, amused. "So why do I find that endearing?"

"Because you're a guy and you only think with your dick." She told him, taking a long gulp. "Why do you think I'm a lady lover?"

"Surely it's better without feelings?"

Santana nearly choked on her vodka. "What?"

"Guys only thinking with their dicks. Surely that's better."

"Why?"

She watched him as he dried glasses with a tea towel. "Because then you don't get drowned in issues."

She nodded. "Touché."

She turned to look at her friends and found them the way she left them. She sighed, hoping things would work out for V and Oakley.

"So what are your issues?" The barman asked, reaching up to place the dried glasses back.

"What aren't my issues?" She snorted.

"No, really? Come on, I mean, there must be something major that's brushing you up the wrong way?" He asked.

"A girl."

He widened his eyes. "_Never._"

Santana giggled. "Okay, I deserved that." She took a sip of her drink before continuing. "She's beautiful. My best friend. Everything. And she's fucking a dick."

The barman laughed so hard it made Santana jump. She laughed with him, enjoying this break of tension.

"Well some girls prefer it, I guess." He suggested, carrying on with the drying.

"I guess you're right."

He was silent before he asked, "How long have you been in love with this girl?"

She looked up at this guy. His eyes were sincere and she felt safe. "Since I was fourteen." He whistled out. "But she told me she's loved me ever since we were kids."

"She loves you?"

Santana stilled. "I used to think so."

"Lady," He breathed, shaking his head. "Get back to America and find yourself a new woman. Preferably one who doesn't like dick."

This time, Santana laughed really hard. "I only wish it was that easy."

"You want another one?" He asked, indicating her empty glass. She nodded. "Jesus. I mean, I thought heterosexual relationships were hard but lesbians it seems have it harder."

Santana smiled. "Figures."

As the guy was pouring out the vodka, he looked over to a group of guys hovering around a girl as she walked into the room. He shook his head. "At least I can control my dick." He joked, putting the bottle back.

Santana twisted around in her seat. She watched as the guys competed against one another to get this girl to sleep with them. They swaggered their hips, jutted out their chins, took the girl's hands and brought them to their lips.

The Latina could only see the girl's legs but they weren't moving. She shook her head, guessing she was a slut and loved the attention. She turned back round to take another sip of her drink. Just as her lips met the liquid, she heard someone say quite forcibly; "Move out the way, please."

She turned around the group of guys. They were big, dark-skinned, with baseball caps twisted to the side. They kept putting their arms around the girl whilst one of them reached out and touched her boobs. It was mortifying for her.

She asked them to move away, but Santana couldn't see much because they were all crowded round her like vultures. They were so drunk they didn't even know what they were doing. The song suddenly changed and they all started dancing, trying to get her to dance with them.

"I said move!" Came the girl's muffled voice from within the boy's moving bodies.

Santana frowned. She turned back round to the barman but he'd already gone to serve someone else.

The girl was now being kissed by one of the guys and it pained Santana to see her struggle and try and push him away with her hands. When she finally freed herself, she buried her head in her hands.

Santana tried to look for help but no one was really interested except a couple of girls who were too scared to do anything.

"Go away, I don't want to dance!"

_Fuck._

When Santana turned back round to face the crowd, one of the guys had shifted slightly so Santana had the perfect view of who was in the middle of this invasion.

_Brittany._

She leapt off her stool and charged across the group of boys, not even caring who was looking.

"Get the fuck off her!" She yelled, grabbing one of their shoulders and yanking him backwards. He stumbled, but not so much as an inch.

"And who are you, pretty girl?"

"Fuck off douche bag. Get the hell outta here before I slit your throats with the razor blades I carry in my hair." She glared him down.

"You don't scare me, pretty girl." He said lowly, inching up to her. "You ain't gonna stop me getting some from this blondie."

Santana looked over to Brittany and saw the fear in her poor little eyes. "Fuck you." She said, swinging her hand back and punching him right in the jaw. He fell to the side, crashing into several passers-by.

A full blown fight broke out. Santana was hounded by the men, her hair was being pulled, her thighs were being gripped and her back was being beaten. But they didn't dare touch her face. Not with this many people around.

The barman finally caught on, as did security and wrestled with the men to get them off Santana. She was pressed face first into the wall, her back burning from being smashed by fists and arms. The security led the raging men down the stairs and away from the bar, leaving only the barman, Brittany and Santana.

"Hey, lady, what the hell did you think you were doing?" He asked, pulling her away from the wall. She looked at the guy, glared at him and marched towards where Brittany was stood in the corner, fear written all over her.

She took Brittany's hand, led her out the doors and down the stairs into the night air. When she got outside, she saw the boys being herded into a police car. They yelled at her but still she didn't move. When they had finally driven off and turned the corner, she relaxed her shoulders and turned to Brittany, enveloping her in a tight hug.

"Fuck, Brittany." She muttered, burying her face into the crook of the blonde's neck. They listened to each other's heavy breathing before she said, "What the fuck are you doing here? And by yourself?"

Brittany gripped Santana harder. "I had to tell you that I love you, San... I just had to tell you."

Xxxx

She felt Santana shift against her neck and pull away. They looked at each other.

"What?" The brunette said, still gripping Brittany's biceps tightly.

"Listen, San," She began, repeating what she'd memorised on the train here. "I love you. I really love you and I just can't do it anymore. I can't pretend that I still have my heart because I don't. I don't have it. I gave it to you and however many times you tell me good bye, I will never get it back because it's yours and it always has been yours..." She let out a sob before falling back into the brunette's arms. "It's yours forever, San and there's nothing I can do about it."

She'd been so scared. So scared. When Nick had rung earlier, he'd commented that every time he spoke to her, she always mentioned Santana and how she always said good bye to Brittany and that Brittany couldn't handle it anymore. She'd got so angry, she'd said good bye to him and when she put the cell down, she had sat there, crying, and realised she'd been so stupid for even trying to forget about Santana. Because she couldn't. And she'd been so stupid to even think that Santana couldn't help her. Couldn't keep her safe and save her when things got scary. Because she'd just gone and freaking done that tonight. She'd just gone and freaking done that.

"I'm so sorry, San." She said, crying into soft coffee skin. "I'm so, so sorry. It's all my fault and I don't know how to tell you that I'm sorry. Because I am. I don't know what I'll do without you, San. I'm going to die."

She'd rung Nick back to tell him she couldn't be with him anymore. She told him that there was no one else on this planet that would ever make her feel the way Santana made her feel. And even though she'd cried, she felt relieved.

She would miss him. He'd been there for her when Santana hadn't. Couldn't. The night everything changed. The night everything made her worry so much. He'd helped her.

But she knew now that Santana could have helped her too. Could have made her feel safe and okay again.

She was so freaking stupid.

"Britt?" Santana said, pulling away again to look her in the eyes. "What do you mean you're going to die? You've got your boyfriend to help you. I'm sorry I'm hurting you by doing this but it's for both of our own goods. I wish you could see that."

"But San," Brittany protested, cupping the Latina's cheek. "I don't have him anymore. I couldn't have him. Not when I could never give him my heart."

Santana frowned. "What, Britt?"

Just as Brittany was about to answer, the barman came out of the club doors and handed Santana some money.

"Get yourselves the hell out of here," He said, showing them where the taxi cabs were. He looked at Santana. "I assume this is your girl?"

Santana smiled and nodded slightly. "You assumed it did you?"

The barman smiled. "I did. Now go find yourselves a quiet place to talk things through. At least there is no dick involved."

Brittany watched as Santana laughed. She didn't know what he meant but she was glad he'd made her smile.

When they reached the cabs and got themselves settled into one, Brittany turned to Santana and said, "Can I please just hold your hand? For now?"

Her heart had never felt so elated when the Latina tangled her warm fingers in between Brittany's.

Xxxx

They found themselves walking towards the park, hand in hand, gently taking in each other's silence with comfort and pleasure. They sat down on the swings, squished together on one swing, and began talking.

"Can I tell you what happened?" Brittany asked, wishing more than anything for Santana to just hear what she had to say. To let her in again.

"Please, Britt." Santana answered, closing her eyes and leaning closer to the blonde.

"Do you remember the night we'd been to the movies and we were so happy, giggling all the way home?" Brittany wondered, exhaling gently.

"Of course, Britt."

She smiled. "When I got home, I lay in my bed and all I wanted was to be back with you, in your arms, sleeping soundly." She sniffed, the cold getting the better of them. "So I crept back outside and decided to walk to yours. I figured it was only three streets down so I would be there in twenty minutes or so."

Santana squeezed her hands.

"But when I turned the corner near your street, this man appeared behind me and started following me. I started to run but he started to run too and just before your house, he caught up with me, slammed his hand across my mouth and dragged me into the hedge."

The blonde looked down and shook her head to try and rid the memory of it. She felt Santana freeze beside her and then start shivering.

"Are you cold?"

"God, Brittany. You just told me that and you're asking if I'm cold?" Santana stood up and lifted her leg over the other side of the swing so she could wrap herself around Brittany. "I'm warmer now."

Brittany buried her head in Santana's chest and continued. "Oh, San, it was so horrible." She felt the brunette hold her tighter as both of them began crying. "He kept telling me to keep quiet otherwise he'd shoot. I didn't even know where his gun was or if he even had one but I was just so scared that I lay there and closed my eyes really tightly shut and tried to pretend it was you or that you were there with me so I wasn't so scared." She released a breath and a sob and carried on when Santana kissed the top of her head. "But I'm rubbish at pretending."

Santana began rocking her and whispering to her that she was so sorry she wasn't there to protect her.

"But San, that's where I panicked." She continued, gripping the brunette's arm. It was stone cold and she was shivering. They both were. "When he finished, I thought he was going to kill me. But instead, he just spat on me and then ran off into the darkness, almost as if I'd dreamt it. And I just rolled over and stayed huddled up in case he came back for me. But then I saw the sunrise and your curtain's twitch and I knew I had to wait until I saw you car head off to school. And when you left, I ran back home so fast that I collapsed and my mum kept asking me what's wrong and where have you been and all I wanted to do was sleep. So I did."

Santana let out a full on choke and gripped Brittany even harder. "I'm so sorry, Britt."

"San, please, it's not your fault." Brittany repeated, kissing the girl's open neck. "It's my fault."

The brunette leant back and shook her head, her eyes drenched. "No, Britt, no. How is any of this your fault?"

"Because I left you."

Santana dropped her eyes and muttered, "I should have protected you, Britt."

"But I didn't let you, sweetie. I didn't let you because I never wanted that to happen to you. And I knew that if it ever did, I wasn't strong enough to save you and you weren't strong enough to save me. That was what I felt back then. And the night I went to your house to tell you was the worst night of my whole entire life. I hated that I was hurting you but I just wanted you to be with someone who could protect you properly. Like a guy."

The Latina shifted and shook her head.

"And I regretted it so much. I still do. Every day, San." Brittany admitted, taking the girl's face in her palms. "And when you chucked me out, with all my clothes and everything, I've never felt so worthless and so weak in all my life. I just wanted to die. And Nick just turned up at the bar I ran to. I never run to bars, San. I was out of control. And I was weak and vulnerable and he took care of me and I thought he can protect me. I can't put Santana through that."

Santana scrunched her face at the mention of his name. "Did you tell him what had happened?"

"God, no."

"What?" Santana looked up and frowned.

"I haven't told anyone except you."

"Britt," Santana breathed. "You need help."

Brittany shook her head. "I only need you." She muttered.

"Are you going to go home and tell him what happened?" Santana asked, with a hint of anxiety.

"No, San."

"But why? Isn't he meant to be the one who can comfort you and protect you?" Santana said angrily. It hurt Brittany.

"Please, Santana." She whispered, closing her eyes. "I know it took me a while and I know that I was stupid, but I know now. I know that you're strong and you're safe... I mean, look at what you did tonight?" She wiped away a tear that was falling down her nose. "I just want you. But I know that I'm too late."

Santana released a sob before wiping away her own tears. "You're never too late, Britt."

The blonde shook her head. "But I am, San. I would lay in my bed by myself, after forcing Nick home, waiting. Just waiting for you. Because you were all I wanted. All I ever needed." She paused to look into Santana's mocha eyes. They were so clear through the tears. And they were so honest. "I would wait for you, San. I would wait all night. Just the thought of you before I close my eyes."

She couldn't help it. Her face crumpled and suddenly, the thought of living without Santana by her side every night became too much and too real and she buried her face in her hands. She heard Santana cry in beside her and it hurt. It hurt so much that both of them were hurting this way.

"I just..." She found it hard to speak through the tears and through her hands. "I just find it so... so hard not sleeping next to you, San. Without feeling your... your arms around me and keep... keeping me safe and warm all night. I miss it so... so much." She let the tears come fully out, thinking there was no point holding back now.

"Oh, baby." Santana comforted, pulling her into another warm embrace. It felt so good to hear those and words and to feel those arms.

"And all I want...is to feel your skin on mine... because his... his is all over me and I just couldn't, San...I just couldn't let him...Nick... touch me. I couldn't. It's too hard, San. Everything is too hard." She inhaled Santana's exotic coconut smell and relaxed a little. "He's gone, Santana. I told him to go. I'm gonna be alone now... I'm gonna be alone because that's what I put you through."

Santana was still for a while, maybe a minute, before Brittany heard her break out into more tears, just when she thought there were none left. She sat up and searched Santana's face.

"San? Oh, I'm sorry. Please be happy, I hate that I hurt you. When we get home, I promise I'll move away, leave Ohio and let you move on because I-"

"Brittany, shh." Santana comforted, placing her hands around Brittany's face. "I don't want that. I just want _you_. I want you in my bed with me every single night, my arms around you holding you tight. I want to play tea with you and tell you I can't give you wine because I don't want you to get drunk. I want to drink raspberry juice with you in our big home and have lots of ducks in the back pond and a garden full of mini Brittany's running riot. I want your hands in mine, I want your arms in mine, I want your heart in mine... I _have _your heart in mine." She smiled against her tears and wiped Brittany's with the pad of her thumb. "I should have known, Britt. It kills me that you were put through that right under my fucking nose and I didn't even notice. I don't want to keep you waiting; you've done enough of that. You'll never be alone because I will always be here. I promise you I'll always be here. I've been here all along."

Brittany watched as Santana closed the gap between them and right before she reached her lips, she whispered, "Is it okay to kiss you?"

She'd never loved the girl more. She wrapped her own arms around Santana's neck and pulled her until their lips met properly. It was the best feeling she had ever felt. Santana's lips felt warm against hers, even though everything else was freezing. They fit together perfectly, safely, protectively.

"I love you, Santana." Brittany said against her lips. It felt so good to say it.

"Oh, Brittany, I love you too. So much." It felt even better to hear it back. "I can't stop holding you because I'm so scared you will break. And I'm so sorry about what happened. I should have been there. I should have realised."

"San, just hold me tonight." Brittany told her, hugging her close. "And every other night in our lives."

"I'll never let you go."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: So this is the last chapter/prologue. I know it's short but that's how I wanted it to be. I want it to be sort of ambiguous so you can make up in your own mind what happens with the two of them. Enjoy the last tiny snippet of my version of Brittana's senior year. **

CHAPTER 20 – Our love is legendary.

_Dear Santana,_

_Thank you so much for everything. Thank you for pushing me to speak to Oakley. Thank you for saving my best friend's soul and thank you for joining us on stage at Internationals and helping us all win the title. _

_Your voice is truly exceptional and your friends should be very proud of you. I know that Brittany knew you meant every single word._

_We leave you now but I hope it is not forever. Oakley and I want to keep in touch with you and Brittany; you both mean an awful lot to us. We didn't like the two months apart before this competition! So let's not leave it that long, hey? _

_Good luck with everything that you do. You are both beautiful._

_All my love,_

_V._

Santana folded the letter back into its envelope and snuggled into Brittany. The airplane was cold but her black fluffy socks were keeping her warm. As was Brittany. She rested her head on the blonde's shoulder and closed her eyes.

"I love you, Britt." She whispered, pulling the girl closer.

Brittany stirred, heaving up the arm rest between them and pulling Santana's legs around her, so they were as entangled as they could possibly be.

"I love you too, San."

**The End**

**Please check out my other story **_**Mama's Letters Home.**_** It's about families with members away at war during Christmas time. I'd really appreciate it. Thank you! Poppy x**


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